


Crazy for you

by nishiki



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angels are Dicks, Betrayal, Bisexual Dean Winchester, Bottom Dean, Canonical Character Death, Castiel is Called Jimmy, Crazy Castiel, Crazy Dean, Dean Can't Cope, Delusions, Demonic Possession, Demons, Electroconvulsive Therapy, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Going insane, Graceless Castiel, Hex Bags, Human Castiel, Hurt Dean, Janitor Gabriel (Supernatural), Loss of Identity, Loss of Parent(s), M/M, Minor Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Past Abuse, Protective Gabriel, Sam Winchester at Stanford, Sam does not believe in monsters, Sam knows about Adam, Sam thinks Dean is crazy, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Trauma, Trust Issues, castiel thinks he's jimmy, except Castiel and Gabriel, insane asylum, other characters might be added later, sexy times in chapter 16, the Winchesters are not close, the series did not happen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2018-01-19
Packaged: 2019-01-31 14:14:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 128,551
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12683556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nishiki/pseuds/nishiki
Summary: After their father's death at the hands of a demon, Dean’s only was to move forward is to visit Sam in Stanford to find help in his little brother. However, his hopes are cruelly crushed by the young law student because Sam, after having never seen anything supernatural and not believing into the stories his father and brother told him as a child, has his beloved brother Dean committed to a mental institution to get the help he truly needs in his eyes. There, Dean meets Castiel, a young man who declares he is an angel who was sent down from Heaven particularly to help Dean.





	1. Prolog

**Author's Note:**

> It's my headcanon that Dean's middle name (if he has one) might be Michael. After getting a glimpse of Sam's birth-certificate, we can assume that Sam's middle name is William and judging by the fact that John too has a middle name, it's highly unlikely that Dean does not have one too. Since I am convinced that Samuel is a hint at Samael, one of Lucifer's names, I thought Michael would be a fitting middle name for Dean, especially after Mary seemingly believed in angels.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bear with me, it'll get less confusing, I promise - and then it will get more confusing again >D

Sometimes, he found himself stopping and wondering when his life had gotten so completely out of hand. Where did he go wrong? When did everything become so very complicated and … _strange -_ so _twisted_? If he would be his brother, he assumed, he would blame his father for the fact that everything had happened the way it did and that his father had been the reason why had taken on that very road which had ultimately led him to arrive at this place. Wherever this was. However, he was not his brother, right? Despite the fact that his brain was foggy most of the time since he came here, he was almost one hundred percent certain that he was not his brother. Then again, what did that mean in a place like this anyway? He was more like … ninety-eight percent certain, now that he really came to think about it.

And hell, where was he even? Half the time, he didn't know.

»My name is Dean Michael Winchester.« He heard a voice mumble somewhere in the world around him and as he opened his eyes, he grew aware that he was alone. Alone in a world white as snow. No windows, just flat white walls all around, encapsulating him, making him feel small, making him feel claustrophobic as if he was lying inside a coffin. A completely white cubicle, a world of snow. His father had liked to tell him that the world had been completely white from freshly fallen snow in the night when he had been born. But that was a long time ago. His father had stopped talking to him about the past, somewhere along the way.

»My name is Dean Michael … Winchester.« The voice sounded again, so close to his ears this time, that the person who was talking had to be right behind him but as he tried to turn his head, there was no one. »I was born, January twenty-fourth nineteen...« The voice stopped and there was a groan. Damnit, his head hurt like hell. »Nineteen … Seventy? _No, that's not right_. I was born January … January…« Poor guy couldn't even remember his own birthday.

As he tried to rise to his feet, he noticed that he couldn't. His feet were stuck in the snow around him. It reached almost up to his hips. His whole body was covered in snow, in fact. Pure white snow. He tried to move his hands to his head so that he could massage the tension out of his temples, but he couldn't move his hands. They too were stuck in the snow. The only thing he could do was to lie here in this snow-covered world and listen to that poor crazy man ramble on, repeating his name until he couldn't even do that anymore. With every second, his brain seemed to get foggier and he thought, for a moment, that it was the snow filling his head now too after it had conquered the entire world around him already, making him forget, drowning him in endless white and bitter cold calmness.

Maybe it was better this way. If he would drown in the snow, he wouldn't need to feel pain anymore, he figured. Here he would never need to feel the sting of betrayal anymore. Here, he would never need to experience violence anymore. No yelling, no screaming, no condescending looks, no brother who looked at him like he was bonkers, no pity in the eyes of those he loved.

As he opened his eyes again and stared at the white sky above him, he tried to remember the eyes of his brother. He was almost certain they were green. Not a pure green though. Not candy apple green. Not like his. A mixture of blue and green. Maybe sprinkled with brown here and there. Not like his because his brother wasn't like him. They were two sides of the same coin. His brother was the sun and he was the moon. Or was it the other way around? He couldn't tell. He didn't need to tell. All he could think of were the stars. They were twinkling above his face on the clear white sky and the sunlight was almost blinding. He couldn't see his brother’s eyes when he closed his eyes. There was no green in his memory. There was only blue. The deepest and clearest kind of blue he had ever seen. A blue that was so strange and vibrant that it was impossible to be of this world.

And as he tried to focus on this color, as he squeezed his own eyes shut again to ignore the blinding sunlight and the snow around him, he could almost see a face in front of him. A face that belonged to this color.

»My name is … is D … Dean. My name is D-Dean … Winchester … My name is … My name is … Where is Castiel?« That didn't sound right, even to him and hell, what did he even know about that poor bastard? But the crazy man was rambling on around him and with every word his voice sounded more helpless and confused. Almost he felt pity for him, but those blue eyes that he could see staring right back at him now behind closed lids, calmed him enough to ignore the poor man who seemed to be locked in with him in this endless snow filled void. He tried to sleep and for the first time in hundreds of years, it seemed even possible for him to sleep.

»Where is Castiel … Where is … the Angel … Where is the Angel…«

If only that man would finally be silent.

 

**-End of Prolog-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3


	2. Chapter 2

He was alone again. Outside the world was completely black and the storm that was about to hit the West Coast of the United States already caused the forest around the small wooden house to bend and bow with each gust of wind that was hitting the area. It was certainly not the first time that he was alone in a situation like this and he was aware that it wouldn't be the last time either. His father had left during the early evening hours and had taken his older brother Dean with him, telling him, his youngest child, only to lock the door and make sure that the salt lines in front of the windows and doors stayed intact so that no monsters would be able to get him.

Sam Winchester had given up a long time ago to ask his older brother Dean why he wasn't allowed to go with them when his father and Dean would leave the house and sometimes only came back when the morning was already approaching, mainly because his brother had only ever given him the same answer: » _You’re too young, Sammy_.« Sam sighed as he slowly walked away from the window after he had pulled the blinds close again. He was not easily scared. He had never been a child that got easily scared, but even to him thunder and lightning in an area as this out here all alone and far removed from any other person that might be able to help him, made even him feel a little jumpy.

The truth was, his brother, Dean, was only four years older than him. Dean was thirteen already and apparently, that was indeed old enough in the eyes of their father. Old enough to go out in the middle of the night, armed with a shotgun and a silver knife to hunt monsters. As his brother had first told him about what their dad really did when he would leave them in dirty motel rooms or at their Uncle Bobby’s place, Sam hadn't quite believed it but to cheer up his brother who always looked as if he was carrying the weight of the whole world on his frail shoulders, Sam had played along and asked him if their dad was a superhero. He had liked to see how Dean's face had lit up at this, proud to exclaim that, _yes_ , that was exactly what their dad was. At least in Dean’s eyes.

Maybe that was the core difference between him and his big brother. Dean truly believed in the things his father told him. He truly believed in monsters and demons and ghosts. to Dean, their father  _was_ a superhero, just like Batman or Superman, and that was exactly what Dean too aspired to be one day. That was why Dean would trail after his father and never leave his side. Sometimes, Sam wondered if he would start believing in monsters too if he would ever see one for himself. He had a vague memory of something leaning over him in the darkness of some moldy smelling motel room as he had been half asleep and half awake before the blast of a gun had shaken him awake. Had that been a monster? It could have been anything. But Dean believed in these things and his father did too. However, Sam had eyes to see the countless bottles of beer his father would leave in his wake and he had ears to hear him sometimes talk to himself when he thought that no one was around to hear him. And he knew how rampant his brother’s imagination was.

Still, a part of him, the part that wanted to believe in his beloved older brother, refused to crush Dean’s expectations of him. And so he acted the part. So, he made sure the salt lines in front of the windows and doors stayed intact, so he acted frightened when there was some weird noise in the night and so he would let his brother play the part of the superhero who protected him from everything that would go bump in the night.

A knock on the door ripped him from his sleep and the weird dreams he was having lately. Before he knew it, Sam Winchester shot out of his bed to stumble over his discarded jeans on the floor and heard the faint moan of someone in the darkness beside him. It took him a moment to realize that he was home, that he was in his own apartment and not some shitty wooden hut in the middle of nowhere. Outside there was no raging storm and no thunder crashing ahead, only cars driving down the busy streets of Stanford, California. Only slowly he regained his senses as he drove a hand through his shaggy brown hair before casting a glance at the bed he had just jumped out off. Jessica, his girlfriend of two years, lay on her side, still fast asleep.

Another knock on the apartment door made him remember what had woken him from his sleep in the first place and only shortly he caught a glimpse of the time on his digital alarm clock on the nightstand. It was half past three in the morning. Hell, who in their right mind would wake someone up so late in the night? He knew only one person who would do something like that and it was almost comical that Sam had dreamed of his childhood for the first time in years only to be shaken awake like this.

Tired out of his mind, he strolled towards the door to open it before the nightly intruder could press the doorbell instead and would wake up Jessica too. Whatever this was about, Sam would deal with it on his own. Jessica might be the one to deal with the spiders in their home, but he, as the man, was surely the person who would deal with possibly dangerous intruders during night time. That mindset was probably the only decent thing his father had taught him. Now that he came to think about it, when was the last time he had seen his father?

He had left his family when he had turned eighteen and graduated from High School to visit college, very much against his father’s will and much to his older brother’s disappointment. That was five years ago. _Huh. Time flies_.

As he reached the door there was yet another impatient knock and it only grew louder and more and more annoying. Still, Sam tried to be quiet as he unlocked the apartment door but kept the chain on before he twisted the knob and opened the door. First, he could barely see who was standing in front of him in the darkness of the hallway. All he felt was a chill running down his spine as he stood there only in his pajamas with his eyes still raw and sensitive as if he was letting a ghost inside his home. He had stayed up late to study for an upcoming test. Law School was not as easy as TV made it look like.

»Sammy?« He knew that voice under a thousand and as his eyes started to get used to the darkness, he finally was able to take in the face in the darkness in front of him. It was a familiar one and yet so very much different from what he remembered looking back at his past.

»Dean?« His fingers were a lot faster to close the door to unlock the chain and open it again fully, as he could even think about it. A small voice inside his head whispered to him that it wasn't the smartest idea to let his older brother in whom he had last seen five years ago and had broken apart from after one hell of a fight. His father wasn't the only person who had been against Sam leaving and visiting college. Dean had been devastated. He had never told him that he expected Sam to join him and his father in their lives as monster hunters, but Sam had always known that this was the truth. A part of him had even wondered if Dean was just jealous of Sam for getting a chance that he would never get himself after Dean had dropped out of school by the age of sixteen. Still, Dean was his brother and Sam loved him. Despite everything that may or may not had happened between them in the past, he loved his brother and even in light of the late hour, he was almost excited to see him.

As Dean entered the flat, Sam found himself turning on one of the lights to have a proper look at Dean. He regretted it immediately after, as he stopped dead in his movements. Dean looked like he had been run over by a truck and that was not a figure of speech. There was a deep cut running through the right corner of his mouth, splitting both lips and another cut splitting his left eyebrow, running dangerously close to his eye. A tiny bit deeper, and he might have lost his eye. He was sporting a black eye on the left side of his face too and his jaw was badly bruised. He looked dirty and disheveled was in dire need of a shave, his clothes were ripped and torn and full of stains which origins Sam might rather not think about too much. He was limping, as Sam noticed as he watched him walk towards the sofa while Sam closed the door again, and his right shoulder hung a little unnaturally. It was obvious that his big brother had gone through hell and by looking at him, this too seemed not to be a figure of speech.

»Dean … Wow … What are you doing here?« There was no hug as a greeting and for once, Sam was not too bummed out about that. He and his brother, they were both very tactile persons especially with one another. They had always been close, always been inseparable and yet, five years after having last seen his brother, Sam couldn't bring himself to go in for the hug and Dean too didn't seem too eager. He bit down on the question of why his brother deemed it appropriate to infiltrate his home that late at night and of how Dean had even found him in the first place. Then again, he was not exactly _hiding_ here. Unlike his older brother and father, Sam was not using fake ID’s all the time. He had enlisted in University as _Samuel William Winchester_ as it was written on his birth certificate for the whole world to see and know that not every Winchester was a complete fuck-up. Looking at how miserable and pale his big brother looked, he almost felt sorry for thinking like this and yet it only proved his point.

And really, looking back on his family, how could he not think like that? His older brother had dropped out of school early, his father was some random mechanic after he had left the army with an undeniable drinking problem, and as far as Sam knew, his grandfather, Henry Winchester, had been some paranoid shithead who had left his only child behind randomly and never came back. The name Winchester was cursed, that was what his father had always claimed and yet, Sam was eager to prove him wrong. Sometimes he felt that this was his only purpose in life - to prove his father wrong.

»Just wanted to drop by and say hello?« He asked with a sly little smirk on his face that didn't even reach his eyes at all. That, Sam could even see in the dim light of that one lamp he had switched on. However, before Sam could ask something else, the ceiling light was switched on and as Sam looked over to the bedroom door, Jessica stood there in her pajamas, a tired little yawn leaving her mouth and her long blonde hair ruffled and all messed up.

He noticed the way his brother was immediately looking at her, sizing her up and yet it was different than Sam remembered him to act when he would size up a woman as if Dean would immediately know not to do something stupid or infiltrate his younger brother’s territory. »Sam?« Jessica asked tiredly as her eyes fell upon Dean who leaned heavily on the sofa now and looked as if he needed to cling to something so that he wouldn't just fall over. Almost Sam was tempted to offer his brother a seat. »Who's that?«

»I’m-«

»That's my brother.« Sam interrupted Dean before his brother would manage to spit out the first stupid thing that came to his mind, which would probably some random lie because that was how they had been raised and Dean was a brilliant liar. Dean was probably drunk or high - or both - judging by the way he clung to the sofa now and the fact that he had randomly appeared back in Sam’s life. »Dean.«

Jessica's face lit up with a smile as she slowly came closer. »That's Dean!« She smiled at the two brothers and looked from one face to the other with her beautiful bright blue eyes. »The _infamous_ big brother!«

»Infamous?« Dean asked with a humorous little snort but before those two could even begin a conversation, Sam stepped between Jessica and Dean. Jessica had a far too big heart for her own good. She would feel pity for Dean and instead of making him leave, she would invite him to stay and that, Sam couldn't let happen. His brother was like a cockroach sometimes and he didn't want his home to get infested with vermin. He was glad to see him, yes. He was glad to know that his brother was still alive, yes. But he wanted him to leave.

»Why aren't you staying the night, Dean?« Jessica already chirped, but Sam was quicker than his brother.

»No, he wanted to leave again. He has a long way ahead of him and just wanted to drop by to say hello.« The look Jessica shot him was crystal clear. Of course, she didn't buy his bullshit and that was okay as long as she would not drag this out right here and now. At least Dean was, for once, decent enough, to play along - somewhat.

»Yeah … That and to wish my little brother a happy twenty-third birthday.« Dean smirked and for once he indeed surprised him as Sam looked at Dean now. It was true. Today was the second of May. Sam had almost forgotten his own birthday because of all the work he had to put into his studies. Jessica just smiled at him knowingly.

»T-Thank you … I guess.« Sam replied and had a hard time not to sigh. He had never much cared for birthdays, probably because they had never really celebrated them anyway. Then again, Dean had always been the one person making sure that Sam would have the nicest day possible on his birthday. They hadn't had much money for presents, of course, but Dean had always done everything in his powers to make Sam enjoy himself on this special day. Sometimes, they had snuck into the cinema to see a movie they neither had the money nor the right age for. Now, looking back, those birthdays had been utter shit and yet, Sam couldn't even remember if they had ever celebrated Dean’s own birthday. »Now that that’s settled…«

»Sammy … Would you mind coming outside with me for a moment?« Dean put a hand on his shoulder and this time, as Sam looked at him, he could see the seriousness in his green eyes. Oh, hell no. He knew that look. He knew what was going to happen and he didn't want to hear any of it. He would not let himself get dragged right back into this insanity.

»Everything you want to tell me, you can say in front of Jessica too.« There was silence for a moment, proving to Sam that he had been right in his assumption of what his brother wanted to tell him but he was surprised again as Dean straightened his posture a little. He knew that stance he took on. He was no longer his _brother_ Dean who cracked jokes and was generally fun to be around, but Dad’s perfect little soldier again, the back straight as a wooden board.

»Okay« He breathed and his eyes solely rested upon Sam, after he had stepped closer to Jessica. »It's about Dad.«

»What now?« Sam frowned. »Does he need someone to bail him out again? What did he do in his drunken head this time that brings you-«

»He’s dead, Sam.«

※※※※※※※

Jessica had already left as Sam woke up just hours after he had been shaken awake by a knock on his door. She had the early shift at the store she was working in part-time to help him pay the rent. The life as a student wasn't cheap, after all. As Sam lay in his bed and stared at the ceiling, he still tried to wrap his head around what had happened during the night and how he felt about it. His father was dead - if he wanted to believe his usually buzzed older brother. Dead. Just like that. Jessica had demanded the brothers to go to sleep before talking any more after they had started arguing right on the spot and had offered the couch to Dean much to Sam’s dismay. His brother had taken her up on the offer, which was not that surprising. Dean could sleep anywhere and Sam didn't even know if his brother had a home of his own or if he was still living out of the car. He knew nothing about his older brother or if he had changed in any way in those past five years.

However, as Sam left his bedroom after a few more minutes of him just staring at the ceiling and avoiding meeting his brother, it seemed that nothing would ever change in this family. He found Dean standing at the stove and the smell of freshly made scrambled eggs wafted through the air. His brother looked a little less dirty at first glance and Sam wondered if Dean had talked to Jess already, getting permission to shower. Then again, as if he would need that. Dean usually did what he wanted anyway. As Sam cleared his throat, Dean cast a glance over his shoulder adorned with another smile that only touched his mouth. If that was even possible, he looked even worse for wear now that the morning light was shining through the window and illuminated the colorful discolorations of his face, throat, and forearms. A voice inside Sam’s head wondered how much worse his brother might look underneath his clothes and what had done this to him in the first place. Not that he would ask. »Heya Sammy. Hungry? I made you scrambled eggs - breakfast for the champs, right? Dad always said it was the best way of waking up a tired man in the morning and get him ready for a fight.«

»What fight?« His brother seemed way too cheerful after the news he had delivered to Sam just a few hours ago. A small part of his mind immediately went into a completely new territory because of the way his brother looked at him before he was turning back to his work as if this was his place and Sam the unannounced guest. What if his brother had lied to him last night? What if this was just some scheme to make him come back and rejoin the family?

»Well« As Dean turned away from the stove, he held two plates with deliciously smelling eggs on them to place them on the small table for them to eat and as he did, he almost forgot to switch off the stove. Weird. Then again, his brother had always been weird, but never forgetful of things like this. It was true that Dean had always been the mother hen of their family of men and seemingly because of that reason he had always been mindful of the smallest and possibly dangerous details. It had always been Dean who would cook for him and his dad. It had always been Dean who had checked that the gas was turned off in those crappy motels when it wasn't needed. It had always been Dean, who had checked on everything that could become a danger to his little brother and father and who had always made sure that they had bandages and medicine at their disposal. »The fight to find Dad’s killer, of course!«

Sam sat down just so that he wouldn't need to cling to something to keep him upright. The news of his father's death was still fresh and yet his brother acted as if it was no big deal, which was even odder, considering that his big brother had always worshipped their father as some kind of hero. Hell, he even wore his jacket as Sam noticed now as he found that very leather jacket hanging over the backrest of the couch, where Dean had discarded it seemingly carelessly. He had always hated that jacket because for him it symbolized everything he didn't want to be.

»Dad was … He was murdered?« He finally managed to ask and felt his stomach turn even thinking about it. He had never hated his father and by now, with the much-needed distance to him, he could even see why his father might have become the guy he had become in the end. His mother's death had completely derailed him and he had needed something to cling to, something to blame for her death and so he came up with these monsters and demons. And his big brother with his wild imagination had been all too eager to believe him. »How, Dean? Tell me what happened. If you want to, I can pull some strings, you know. I can get you a good lawyer to make your case and-«

»Remember? I've always made you scrambled eggs with bacon for your birthday when we were little. You don't have bacon though, which I believe has to be a cardinal sin. You go straight to hell, baby brother.« Dean said as he just stared at his breakfast instead of digging in right away as he would usually do. Odd.

»Dean, come on, tell me what happened.«

»It was the demon, Sammy.«

Of course. Was he even surprised to hear something like that from his brother’s mouth anymore? Surely not. Demons, Wendigos, Werewolves, Vampires, Witches, Ghosts, Shapeshifters … That was his childhood in a nutshell. Dean had eaten up their father's insanity and his delusions with a spoon while growing up and though a part of him had hoped that Dean had grown into his own person and realized that this was all nonsense in the past five years, he had to accept that this was seemingly not the case. His brother, twenty-seven years old, sat here at his table and claimed a demon had killed his father. The worst thing about this was that Dean meant it exactly like that too.

»Dean« He sighed. »Dude, come on, you can tell me the truth. Drop that shit already, would you? Is _demon_ a metaphor for something? Has the old man finally managed to drink himself to death?« With this, he seemed to have struck a nerve that lay raw and open for him to attack and he almost felt a little sorry that he had. Dean had worshipped the very ground on which their father walked to an almost sickening degree. Attacking his hero like this, was bound to get his brother agitated at the very least.

»He didn't drink himself to death, Sam!« Dean growled and clutched his fork so hard that his knuckles turned white, as if it was a weapon now. »And you very well know that _demon_ is not a metaphor for anything either! He was killed by that fucking demon, Sam! The same one that killed Mom! And it's our duty now to go out and find that bastard to give it what it deserves!«

» _Our_ duty?«

»Yes, _our_ duty, Sam Winchester! Hunting things, saving people - the family business!« Maybe he shouldn't roll his eyes when his brother would say those things because that only made him more angry and if his older brother was anything like their dad, he would be dangerous when angry. Then again, his big brother never harmed a hair on his head growing up. Not that things couldn't change - although apparently some things never changed. Monsters, demons … The family business, those things never changed. »Enough playing around here at this fancy university, Sam. It's time for you to come back and help me.«

»Dean, listen, if you don't want to talk about what happened it's fine but stop claiming it's been a demon or talking like this will get you hospitalized somewhere down the road.«

Breakfast seemed forgotten as Dean jumped up from his chair as if it had given him some sort of electric shock all of the sudden. »Sam« His voice was nothing but a low growl now and his face the mask of a man who was on the brink of losing his sanity all together. It was almost scary and Sam had never thought that the day might come when he would think of his brother as being scary. »How can you still not believe that these things are real, man? How is it possible that you still won't believe? This fucking demon killed Mom and it killed Dad! And you sit here in your fancy apartment and don't even care! How can you not care? Dad is dead! We have to do something about it!«

»Dean, there is nothing we can do about it! Calm down, okay? Sit down, breathe, relax. We can do this, together, yes?« He sounded more like a shrink than a law student now as he tried to calm down his brother enough to get him to sit with him at least. But yes, that was it, right? His brother had a break down. That's why he came here. Their dad died and he had a break down because he didn't know what to do anymore. »You just need to breathe, Dean.« Dean’s life was derailing now that their father wasn't there to tell him what to do. He wasn’t used to dealing with life without orders.

»I am fucking breathing, Sam!«

»I know, Dad's death must be hard on you - It's hard on me too, but come on, we have to arrange the funeral, right. I'm sure that will get your mind back on track.« And it would help Sam to stay on track. Still, all of this, even talking about a funeral for their father, felt so utterly surreal.

»I already took care of things.«

»What do you mean?«

»I mean that I already took care of it. Dad got a hunter funeral like it's custom. He got burned.«

»You cremated him? How long is Dad dead, Dean?« To plan a funeral, to get a body cremated and the ashes buried took a lot of time and was not done within just a couple of days, usually. There were things to sort out and plan and arrange, money to be paid. And although his brother had always taken good care of him and his needs, Sam knew that he was not a very organized person.

»Two weeks and no I haven't cremated him, I salted and burned him like it's the custom of hunters!« For once, he didn't know what to say. Sam felt how his blood was running cold and that not because of the fact that his father was dead for two weeks already and Dean was only coming now but because of the matter of fact way Dean was talking now. He had _salted and burned_ their father. He had gotten rid of the body of their father on his own illegally as if he was burning the body of someone he had murdered. Could he blame Dean? No, that was the insanity of their father seeping through. It wasn't Dean's fault that their father's chimeras were now in his head too. Now, he needed help to get better.

However, that was not what came out of his mouth next. »You _burned_ our father?« He asked quietly and even Dean had to realize just how insane this sounded coming out of the mouth of a sane person. »Dean … That's a crime. And why didn't you tell me? How did he die?«

»I told you! That demon killed him, Sam! And I didn't tell you because I was too busy dragging my ass here afterward! Do you think Dad's death wouldn't have affected me?« No, Sam thought. He could see how much their father's death was still affecting Dean. He was crumbling. The perfect little soldier was crumbling into pieces in front of his eyes. He could see how the pieces that were forming Dean Winchester were slowly breaking away to reveal the scared little boy underneath. »So what now? Are you going to pack your bag and come with me to find that bastard or what? I found a lead the other day. It might not be Dad’s killer but at least one of his little lickspittles and that thing is in town right now.«

 _Ah_ , Sam thought, _now we’re getting somewhere_.

»Dean, come on, man. Even to you, this has to sound crazy, right? No. I am not coming with you on that stupid quest for vengeance of yours. There is no such thing as a demon or monsters, okay? Mom died in a house fire, that's it and Dad didn't die because of some demon either.« Sam's eyes were hard as steel as they rested on his brother’s face now. »I'm sorry that Dad's death affected you so badly, Dean, but as long as you cling to those inane beliefs of his, you're not welcome here.«

※※※※※※※

Maybe he had been too harsh with his brother. He wouldn't deny that this was a possibility. Maybe he had scared him off for good now and would never see him again. Maybe, next time he would ever hear from his big brother was when a police officer would stand in front of his door to tell him about Dean’s tragic death. His brother was a lost cause but this was nothing new, really. Sam had always known that his brother was just that and he blamed their dad. John Winchester had corrupted his oldest son to the point where Dean hadn't even been his own person anymore. Somewhere along the way, Dean Winchester had been lost to this world and from his ashes, a failed copy of John Winchester had immersed wearing his brother’s face.

He hadn't heard from Dean ever since he had made him leave the apartment. That was last morning. His birthday, by now, was already over. Sure, Sam had celebrated last night with his friends after Jessica had revealed that she indeed had planned a party for him but Sam had hardly been able to relax at all. His thoughts had circled around his brother and about his father's death. He still didn't know how he had died. Maybe that was what really bugged him in all of this. Dean wouldn't tell him what had happened. Not knowing was the worst of it all. He had talked about it with Jessica and although Jessica had insisted on trying to get a hold of his brother and finding out the truth, Sam had appeased her in telling her that he _knew_ what had happened. His father had either drank himself to death, or got into a car crash drunk out of his mind, or had picked a fight with the wrong guy. He had always known that this would happen someday so why should he be surprised now that it did finally happen? And his brother … Hell, Dean was going down the same road. Of course, Sam would love to change that, he would love to do something about it and keep Dean from ending up like their dad, but he also knew that this was almost impossible anyway. Dean wouldn't listen to him.

»I’m just saying, Sam« Jessica tried again after she had taken a sip of her tea. By now evening was approaching in big steps already again and Sam still had to study for his test tomorrow. »he is your _brother_. Now that your dad is gone … You only have one another. You should stick together. And you should try and help him. Obviously, your brother is having a mental breakdown, obviously, he is crushed by your father’s death. I think that he came here to talk to you, was a cry for help, don't you think?«

»No.« He muttered and would have rather fled this apartment than talking to Jessica about Dean’s feelings. »No, I don't think that this was a cry for help or anything of that sort. Dean is not the type to do stuff like this.« But Dean was the type of guy who would come to his little brother in the middle of the night and start finding excuses for why their father died. »Listen, Jess, even if I would try and get in contact with him now, Dean is probably already out of the state already. He’s like this. He probably already left and don't even want to hear from me now. We are … not very close anyway.«

»But you have been.« Jessica chirped as she brushed her hand against his cheek. For this moment alone, Sam regretted ever telling Jess about his relationship with Dean in the past.

»Yeah, but that was a long time ago.« He said leaning into her touch and her loving hands. He couldn't deny that he needed to be close to her right now. He couldn't deny that he needed a shoulder to lean into right now. He hadn't cried because of his father’s death up until this point because it still was so unreal to him. The only thing he could hope for now was that his brother wouldn't do anything stupid. However, knowing Dean, that was highly unlikely. It was already a little later that night as Sam and Jess were about to call it a day and go to sleep, as they were interrupted by the doorbell. This time, it was Jessica who went to open the door as Sam only cast a small glance at the clock on his nightstand as he was about to settle into bed. It was almost midnight. As he had started college, he thought the life of a student would be all about staying up until morning and party all night and although that was more his brother’s thing, he was a little jealous of those students in movies who had fed into this belief of his.

He didn't get to settle into his bed now, however, because only a second later, Jessica’s voice ripped him from his thoughts one more time. »Sam!« And as Sam now hurried out of the bedroom, he was already aware of the impending doom that he was headed into, just as if the arrival of his brother in the early morning hours of Saturday had set something in motion. And that something, like a hurricane or a swarm of crows, couldn't be stopped now.

Sam wasn’t even surprised, as he stepped into the main room of their small apartment to face two police officers standing in the doorway. Both of them were at least twenty years older than Sam and Jess and seemed exactly the kind of cops that had already seen all kinds of shit. Still, although he wasn’t surprised, he felt his heart drop nevertheless. He had always known that he would find himself in a situation like this one day, but he had not thought it would be so soon. »What's wrong, Officers?« He found himself asking more on autopilot than anything as he walked over to them but before they could answer him, Jessica grabbed his arm tightly.

»It's about Dean, Sam!« She said softly and proved only once more to Sam that he had fallen in love with the right woman. She barely knew his brother and yet she seemed just as involved as if she would have known him all her life. Sam looked from her to the policemen again as he forced himself to listen. And yet, all he could really think about was what might have happened after Dean left his apartment and whether or not Jessica might have been right after all. Maybe Dean’s visit had been a cry for help after all. And Sam had sent him away. Had he drunk himself to death? Had he done something stupid, maybe? Everything seemed possible. Only what he had to hear next managed to surprise him.

»Mr. Winchester, we picked up your brother, Dean Winchester, around two hours ago in a parking lot of the Stanford Shopping Center.« The first thing rushing through his mind was that his brother apparently wasn't dead, even before the cop could finish his statement. »We got a call from a person who witnessed an altercation between your brother and a young woman. During that altercation, your brother, allegedly pulled out a knife and threatened that young woman with it. Luckily, your brother did not hurt this woman except for a few minor scratches. She doesn't wish to press charges against your brother as of this moment.«

»Why wouldn't she?« The words escaped him before he could even think about them.

»Well« The officer sighed while his partner, a tall guy with a face like a stone just stood by silently. »It appears that she had seen him stumble out of some bar down the road beforehand. In her eyes, your brother was drunk out of his mind and utterly confused.«

»Where is he now?«

»At the police station. We decided to take him in for the night so that he might sober up. But we would like you to come in tomorrow morning.«

»Why?«

»You see, your brother claimed that he attacked that poor lady because he was of the opinion that she was a demon who has, apparently, killed your father. Even after we took him in, your brother was set on repeating this statement and said much more worrisome things too. In the state he seemed to be in as of right now, he might be not only a danger to other people but mainly to himself. You might want to think about getting your brother help, Mr. Winchester.«

»He’s just grieving.« It was Jess, who came to his brother’s defense and under different circumstances, Sam would have kissed her for it too. She was like a lioness when someone threatened her family and to his grand surprise, she seemed to have already adopted Dean into her family as well. Maybe she was just pitying his brother, though. Sam couldn't even say which one would be worse, honestly. Only as Sam grew aware of the way he was being stared at, he cleared his throat again and nodded sharply. »Okay, Officers.« He finally made himself say. »I’ll come in first thing tomorrow morning. We’ll figure something out. I agree with you, my brother does need help.«

※※※※※※※

He had not slept even an hour, which was an awesome start to this day on which he was supposed to write that important test of his. As he sat at the kitchen table around six in the morning on this early day in May 2006, for once in his life, Sam Winchester felt utterly overwhelmed by what this day would have to offer to him. He was expected to write that test in the afternoon and so he had plenty of time to go to the police station during the morning and yet … He still didn't know what to do. Then again, he had spent almost the entire night thinking about exactly that, researching on his laptop which options he would have and although he knew what he wanted to do, he still couldn't get his ass moving.

Even as he stood in front of the police station, two hours later with Jessica’s words still on his mind, he didn't know if he could so what he had decided to do after several phone calls. _You’re doing the right thing_ , she had told him over and over again as she had gently massaged his aching shoulders. And yes, he did, didn't he? His brother was sick. He needed help. He needed to get _professional_ help for all the troubles he was going through after their father’s death. Everyone could see that. Only … How would he tell Dean? He had already called ahead and talked to the people in charge at the clinic he would bring Dean to and although everything was settled, Sam felt almost a little dirty as he stepped inside the police station to collect his brother.

He found Dean sitting on a bench in one of the holding cells after one of the officers from last night had led him to his brother. »Heeeeey, Sammy!« Even after having hours and hours of getting sober again, Dean at least still sounded drunk as he stood up from his bench and moved to the grille to wrap his hands around the iron bars as if he was some cartoon character. At least he had had company tonight. Three other dudes waited to be released in that cell and all of them looked like they could use some sleep. If it was possible, Dean looked even worse than he did on Saturday. »You come to bail me out?«

Every moment now, the car would arrive outside. Sam had asked them to pick him and his brother up here. He needed to be back for his test in time today. He had no time to deal with his brother’s drama. Still, he tried a smirk - and failed. »Yeah.« He mumbled as he nodded to the officer who unlocked the door to let Dean out. »What even happened, Dean?«

»Not here, Sam.«

»Don't make such a fuss about it now, the officers already told me that you mistook that girl for a demon, Dean. Jesus. Do you even know how embarrassing that was in front of Jess?« This was not even close to being his problem, of course. He had already told Jess about his brother and father and their crazy ideas a while ago after Jess had started asking him about his family. Well, what had he been supposed to tell her? Of course, he wouldn't have wanted to lie to his girlfriend, right?

»Embarrassing? So that's what I'm to you now? Embarrassing?«

»Dean, come on, Dude, don't let us talk about it right now, okay? I'm tired as hell thanks to your little stunt and I have a test upcoming today. I don't have time for this bullshit right now. And yes, you have embarrassed me and now don't act as if this would bother you in any way. We both know that's not true because for that you would need to possess a sense of shame.« He wasn’t being fair to his brother and that Sam knew in his heart. Dean had always cared for him and yet he was treating him like something he would much rather sweep under the rug.

»Touché.« Dean chuckled.

»Still, you can't run around and tell people about demons and monsters, for fuck’s sake.«

»You act as if I would go door to door, Sammy.« As they reached the lobby, Sam exchanged a small glance with the officer. He could already spot the two men waiting for him and his brother, dressed in those unmistakable security uniforms, and he knew that this would not go down without a fight. Dean too seemed to have noticed the two men at the front and he stiffened a little beside him. His brother wasn't dumb and Sam knew this. That was what pained him the most about all of this. Dean was not stupid but their father had poisoned his mind and thus took every chance of a decent life from him.

»Of course you're not. But I heard what happened and I know what you told me and I know that you are grieving, Dean.« Sam replied and this time he at least tried to make his voice sound a little softer and understanding than before.

»And you aren’t grieving?« Dean scoffed. »Dad is dead, Sammy.«

No matter how often he would hear that from his brother, this wouldn't make it any more real to Sam and he wondered if he would ever understand that his father died without giving Sam the chance to reconcile with him first. »Of course I do, but I don't run around and attack innocent people with a knife, Dean!«

»She wasn't innocent!« His brother erupted and his eyes were haunted as he looked at Sam now. He knew that look. Hell, he had seen this all his life when he had looked into his father's eyes. »She was a _demon_ , Sam!«

»There is no such thing, Dean! There are no monsters!« They were within earshot of the two men that were waiting for them now. Was Dean aware that he was walking right into a trap? Did he know what his brother wanted to do? If so, he was playing along as he got all upset now. »This was all just … something in Dad’s head, okay? Just face it already, Dean, Dad was crazy!«

Had he expected that his brother would attack him? No. In all honesty, he hadn't expected that. Dean had never hurt him, Dean had never attacked him. However, this was hurt and confusion and grief taking over as Dean threw himself at Sam to deliver a punch straight to his jaw. This was not his big brother attacking him. Those were the real demons and unlike Dean, Sam knew those things. He never got to put the blame on creatures from fairy tales like his brother and Dean, as the two men at the entrance shot forward to wrestle his older brother away from him, had to learn this now too. Dean screamed and yelled and fought as the men grabbed him tightly and pulled him towards the door, still kicking and throwing punches. Seeing him like this, his beloved big brother, despite everything, did break his heart.

Sam needed a moment to breathe as he stood there and held his aching jaw. This was his big brother and those men with the white uniforms were taking him away like some lunatic to throw him into a padded cell because Sam called them, because Sam asked them to do that, because Sam didn't know how to deal with his brother. A hand on his shoulder made his shoulders tense a little and as he cast a glance to the person standing behind him, he was confronted with that police officer again, who looked at him with compassion and understanding in his dark eyes.

»It's the right decision, Son.« He spoke softly. There was indeed something fatherly in his voice, something that Sam had never seen in his own dad. »I know … Seeing your brother like this isn't easy, and it hurts, but it's the right thing to do. Change hurts at first, Mr. Winchester. And your brother, hell, that boy needs help. He will thank you one day.«

As the officer left him so that Sam could follow the men and Dean outside, he wasn't too sure anymore if he was indeed doing the right thing. Everyone told him that this was the right thing to do, that only professionals were able to help his big brother from now on, but he couldn't ignore the knot in his stomach or the feeling that he had just opened the gates to hell and pushed his beloved big brother right through them.

 

**-End of Chapter 2-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3


	3. Chapter 3

Maybe he should have expected to end here in this situation at one point in his life. Maybe he should have expected that every road he took inevitably led to this place for him. Either that or the grave. Still, as he looked into the face of that doctor who was sitting in front of him now, he wasn't too sure if he wouldn't prefer the grave after all. At least then he wouldn't need to look into his brother’s sad-puppy-face now. Hell, that kid had no right to look at him this way now, had he? After all, Sam had been the person who had brought him here in the first place!

And yet, here they were, sitting in front of that grey looking doctor in his suit and the white coat who looked at them down his nose as if they were children who had went against his rules. It wasn't as if he would be here of his own free will. Hell no. He had been forcefully dragged here specifically against his will. He knew that he couldn't just leave either. The situation was not that simple and at least Dean wasn't crazy enough to forget that.

»Mr. Winchester, do you understand in what kind of situation you are right now?« He glared at the doctor as he had the balls to ask a question like this as if Dean would just be some random lunatic who didn't know where he had gone wrong in his life or what led him here in the first place.

»Yes, I do. If I refuse to stay here, the cops might take me into custody again and start an investigation on my ass for attacking that _innocent_ woman.« And yes, he knew that if that happened, all hell would break loose. Already they had confronted him about the weapons they had found in his possession last night and it was just a matter of hours after they would start digging until they would have unearthed all the dirt Dean had collected under his boots throughout the years. Credit Card fraud, impersonation of a federal agent, identity theft, grave desecration, murder. Well, the last part was clearly debatable in Dean's eyes, but he knew that only he saw it that way. He would find his ass thrown in jail quicker than he would be able to protest if he wouldn't play along now.

»I wouldn't have framed it like that, but yes, that is a possibility. Mr. Winchester, you are surely aware of how your accusations towards your victim sounded and your brother already told me a few things about how your father raised you. Those _monster_ fantasies.« This time he glared at Sam but his brother didn't even have the dignity of looking back at him. His eyes rested on the doctor too and Dean bit his tongue. How bad could it really be inside the looney bin? Well, the problem was not being in this facility, really, the problem was that he did not have enough time to just stay here and play this little game. He had been so close to finding that demon last night! He couldn't let it slip away again! Then again, how was he going against a demon anyway? He didn't have the colt. He needed help and maybe … Maybe he would be able to get his brother on his good side again if he would just play along for a little while. His plan had it's flaws, yes, but it was a plan, right? It was a crazy plan, but better than sitting in jail for the rest of his days.

»I get how crazy I sounded last night, Dr. Whitman.« Dean finally agreed as he looked back at the man again. »Demons … Monsters … I was drunk, okay?«

»Your brother told me that you and your father traveled through the country to hunt down monsters. Shapeshifters, ghosts, and werewolves.« Again, he bit down on his tongue so that he wouldn't do or say anything stupid. Instead, he managed to get in one of his more sarcastic smiles. What was he supposed to say? No matter what he would say, he was busted.

»Someone has to hunt them, right? My brother here never believed in these things because my dad and I tried to keep him safe and away from those creatures for the most part. Naturally, this didn't always work out, but we did our best and-«

»Your brother told me about your father's death. May I ask how he died?« It was not very polite to interrupt him like this, especially not with such a question, but Dean was quick to answer the good doctor in the same fashion.

»I don't want to talk about that.«

»He told me that you said it was that demon that killed him.«

»It was.«

»And that _demon_ is most likely a metaphor for your father's alcoholism and-or depression that set in after your mother's death. You were four when your mother died, right? May I ask how she died?«

»I don't want to talk about my mother either.«

»He told me that you said to him once that she was nailed to the ceiling of his nursery and burned to death and that you pretty much raised him after that night. I can't imagine what weight that put on the shoulders of a four-year-old boy. Was this some kind of demon too who did this?« Dean could already tell that this man had already made his judgment of his character. Wonderful. Did he feel betrayed by his brother for opening up about all these things to a complete stranger? Yes, sure he did. At this moment right here, Dean didn't even know if he would ever be able to forgive Sam for ratting him out like this, for bringing him into such an uncomfortable position. Sam knew that he hated it to talk about their mom. The memories were dark and he would much rather not at all think about it. Sure, there were the good memories he had of his mother; how she cut of the crust of his sandwich or how she would put him into bed whenever his dad hadn't been there to do that. But all of that seemed overshadowed by what happened in the night of November 2nd 1983.

»Yes.« Dean sighed. »Although I am not quite sure about how _this_ could be turned into a metaphor now.«

»Well, that demon you see, could be a personification of the house fire that killed your mother and the problems your father developed afterward, not even to mention the enormous amounts of stress all of this caused you while growing up. Your brother said your father was a violent and neglectful man, that he left you and your brother alone for weeks at a time.« He threw another glance at Sam, sharp and angry this time, but his brother just looked down at his knees as if he was the one in trouble. Oh, this kid.  

»It wasn't so bad, he had work to do.«

»Hunting monsters?«

»Hunting monsters.« Dean repeated as he tried to compose himself and keep a clear head while his thoughts were racing and his head buzzing. »My dad had a bad temper, yes, but I had everything under control. He was a hero. Sammy, here, just never saw it like that. He and my dad just never got along so he tends to brush off everything our dad did as something horrible. Hey, I'm not gonna lie, my dad was a pretty selfish guy sometimes, but he was a good man, a soldier and he saved a lot of people in his life.«

»You seem to have quite the close relationship with your father. One might say you admired him.« It almost sounded like an insult to Dean and he already wondered what kind of clinical picture admiring his father would paint of him now. Hell, as if there was anything wrong with admiring one’s own dad!

»He was my best friend after Sammy left us to go to college. If you want to talk about selfish people, my dad clearly wasn't the only one of those in my family. Sam felt it was more important to get some fancy degree than helping people that are in danger. And yes, I did admire my father. If I would become a man like he was, I would be proud.«

»Mr. Winchester« His voice grew in seriousness as he addressed Dean like this now and leaned back in his chair. »You strike me as a man who has a lot of pent-up emotions inside of him of which you don't know how to properly deal with. It is very clear to me and to your brother, that you are not only grieving your father's death but suffering under the loss and the hole that his death ripped into your life. Not even to mention the loss of your mother you never properly worked through. The grieving process is a natural one. You seem to be a man who has a great deal of anger inside of him. Anger over your mother’s death, anger over your father's death, anger over the way you were raised and how your childhood has been pretty much destroyed after your mother's death as far as I can tell after the things your brother told me. Fighting seems to be your only coping mechanism, Mr. Winchester, and, by all means, this isn't a very healthy one at that. Your monster fantasies might be the least of your problems, as is your hero complex and your incessant need of having to save the world. You seem to be quite angry with your brother too for having dragged you here. But, Mr. Winchester, your brother deeply worries about you. You may see him as someone who left the family behind and betrayed you perhaps even, but your brother wouldn't be here and hadn't talked to the police, would he not be worried about you.« As Dean glanced over at Sam now those big sad-puppy eyes were back and his brother even grabbed his shoulder to press down on it reassuringly. »He wants to help you get better and my advice is that you should take this help and get better so that you can start a new life afterward.«

»Please, Dean.« Sam rose his voice at him now and the hand that was on his shoulder pressed down even harder this time. »Please, get help. For me if not for yourself.« For a kid that refused to admit how much Dean had given up for his sake in all these years, Sam was quite good in pushing his buttons. He was aware what he needed to say and do to get Dean to where he wanted him. It was almost frustrating. In the end, however, Dean sighed. There was nothing he could do or say now. It was all decided already. So, he finally found himself nodding.

»Okay … Let's give it a shot.«

※※※※※※※

As Dean was brought onto the ward he would stay at from now on, he didn't know when he would see his brother next and a part of him didn't even quite know if he even wanted to see his brother again after Sam was putting him through all of this as if it wouldn't mean anything to him. He had to go through a very thorough bodily exam first before he was sent to take a shower - and by God, he needed one too.

Of course, his injuries were looked after too, even though Dean claimed that he was fine. However, seeing himself in the mirror in this bright and loud white neon light in the exam room, naked except for his boxer shorts, he had to admit that, no, he wasn't fine. He looked horrible and he knew that. After his father’s death, he had gotten into fight after fight just to feel something other than his anger and restlessness and his grief. He had barely made it out of the situation they had been in as this demon had killed his dad and yet he was here. Somehow he had dragged his ass out of there, somehow he had managed to get his father’s body out of there. Somehow he had managed to salt and burn him. And he had felt nothing while doing so. Even as he had stared at his own injuries, his bruised body in the mirror, he had felt nothing.

Dean had never quite understood what it meant when people had said they felt dead inside after the loss of a loved one, but now he felt just like it. Everything around him just didn't seem as important anymore, especially now that his little brother had shirked him off into this facility like something that was just unpleasant to look at, something he just didn't want to have in his perfect little new life. Hell, Sammy would become a lawyer in a few years and a brilliant one at that and then he didn't want people to know about that blemish in his life that was his older brother. A part of him even found himself wondering if he had cried at all after his father’s death. He couldn't remember. He had been too occupied with staying alive despite his willingness to die.

As he was finally led into the men’s ward on the third floor of the asylum, Dean felt as if he was stepping right into another world. Moments before he had been surrounded by civilized, fully functioning and perfectly reasonable adults, but as soon as he stepped through those doors leading into this ward, none of that was to be found anymore. He was surrounded by crying, whining, screaming children who had lost their minds somewhere along the way. He was surrounded by men who had lost their marbles a long time ago and suddenly Dean grew aware that he would become one of them the longer he would stay right here. Each day, he would forget and lose another part of himself until he wouldn't be able to recognize himself in the mirror any longer.

However, there was a set of very strict rules in place on this ward and Dean listened to them being spread out in front of him as Dr. Whitman himself led him through the halls of the men's ward. He was allowed to use the common room as much as he wanted during the daytime and the rooms would only be locked from 10 PM until 7 AM. The dining room was off limits outside of the meal times. He wasn't given a reason but Dean, after having seen many prison movies in his lifetime, was sure it had something to do with the potential of killing other patients with chairs or tables. Maybe that thought only occurred to him though and eluded thusly to his own insanity. He wasn't even disputing that he was probably a little crazy. He had to be a tiny bit insane for doing the job he did, right? No sane man would go after monsters like he did. Everyone just wanted to live in peace, right? Hell, even he did.

Yes, even Dean Winchester dreamed of someday living in a nice house in a friendly neighborhood, with a beautiful wife and have a bunch of kids, mowing the lawn on Saturdays and playing with his children in the garden on Sundays. But before he could ever have that, he had to do his job first. Sam didn't understand that but then again, his brother had never needed to learn these things. Dean had maybe sheltered him a bit too much. However, Dean had wanted that at least one of them would be able to grow up sheltered as much as possible and as Sam's big brother, it had been his job to make sure that his brother got the chance of a normal life, right?

Maybe he should have been a bit more selfish. Maybe then he would not be led through endless white corridors towards his tiny white room. »That's your new home for the time you stay with us, Mr. Winchester.« Dr. Whitman addressed him and only now did Dean realize that he had been rambling on about all kinds of things on their way to his room. As he stepped inside for a moment to look around, he found that the room wasn't more unpleasant than the motel rooms he usually stayed in. If anything, it was even a bit better. The bed looked clean and freshly made for him, there were no unidentified and obscure stains on the linoleum floor or the walls. Everything looked clean and pristine and ready for him to move in. The only thing bothering him was that everything had to be so white. But hey, he even had a window through which he was able to overlook the yard. Of course, there were bars in front of the window. »I hope it's to your liking?«

Every question the doctor threw at him, sounded like a test to Dean as if he was waiting for something that would further incriminate Dean in his eyes and make his case even more clear, maybe. Still, Dean just smirked at this. »I never had my own room.« He answered the doc shortly and noted the surprise he could immediately see play out on his face. Oh hell, yes, that would become a note in his file for sure. »Well, Doc … No bloodstains on the floor, no strange stains on the bed, no smell of mold or puke in the air - I think I might be able to deal with that. However, I tend to get bored a little easily.«

»Oh, of course.« He smiled. »May I show you the library then? Of course, you can always watch TV in the common room and we have a bookshelf stacked with all kinds of different works of fiction in there too, but we only have one TV on this floor and at least thirty other patients who want a say in what you can watch. Most patients tend to frequent the library because of this. Same as the yard with its herb garden, you are free to visit the library whenever a nurse is free to accompany you or gather a group to go with. You can find the schedule of when the library is free on the bulletin board in the common room. Every ward of this hospital has a designated time schedule for the visitation of the library to ensure the safety and healing process of all our patients. You can borrow books and take to your room too and your brother may bring you comics or magazines if he likes to. If you don’t want to go to the library yourself, there is a form you can fill out and write the books you’d like to read onto. This is not a prison, after all, Mr. Winchester.«

He said this was no prison and yet there were bars in front of his window. Dean smirked and decided to follow the doc instead of beginning an argument. He would play this game and he would be the best-behaved patient Dr. Whitman had ever seen so that he would be out of here in no time and could go back to his work.

»However« _Ah, here we go_ , Dean thought. »Visiting the library is a privilege, Mr. Winchester. One that can be revoked in case of a misdemeanor.«

He had never been a book guy, not like Sammy at least, but even to him, the library was like a ray of hope in this wasteland of broken dreams and lives as he entered it. This, much like the yard, was probably the only place where he would come in contact with female human beings as well and he planned on using this to his advantages as much as possible. Although, his dad had always warned him not to stick his dick in crazy and maybe he should follow that advice in here.

The library was old and one of the only rooms in this building that reminded Dean of how old that entire building really was. This was no modern hospital, after all. It had been built in the early nineteen hundreds like so many of the haunted asylums he had visited with his dad, but unlike most of those buildings, this clinic had been renovated in the early two-thousands. The outer walls and apparently this library was everything that had been left as it was and in case of this room, Dean was almost tempted to say that it had been rebuild like the original. The library was quite big for a place like this and a circular skylight in the ceiling let in sunlight. It was a beautiful, warm room full of wooden furniture and the familiar smell of books. Every here and there couches and armchairs were strewn across the room to allow the patients to get comfortable.

He would probably be here a lot. Then again, as the doctor began to start talking again and tell him about the plan he had for Dean and his therapy, Dean was quick to realize that he would not spend nearly as much time in here as he wanted to and of course, he would not be allowed to go unsupervised. This was no prison, but he was still not deemed fit to wander around the hospital on his own volition like he wanted. He was deemed dangerous and that the doctor made clear to him. He was not dangerous enough to be committed to the locked ward where the true psychos stayed at, but he knew that he was only one or two crude comments removed from there either. He had to earn the trust of the staff and he was determined to do that.

Still, as they walked through the room, Dean's eyes fell upon one other male patient. The man looked to be around Dean's age, with pale skin and almost black tousled hair. As Dean stared at him from across the room, the young man looked up from the book he was reading and stared right back at Dean with the bluest eyes he had ever seen.

»Ah, you have a good eye, Mr. Winchester.« Dr. Whitman ripped him back into the reality of things as he nodded to the young man Dean was staring at and who was seemingly unbothered by it as he went straight back to reading. »This is one of our more interesting patients I have to say.«

»Interesting?« Dean asked. »What is that supposed to mean, Doc?«

»Ah, well, if I would tell you, there would be no fun in finding out for yourself, right?« He patted his shoulder and Dean was almost tempted to ask him not to do that. »But now it is time for your medication and for dinner. It has been a long day and I'm sure you want to settle in after that experience you went through.«

Dean had dinner in his room that night and a part of him was thankful for that. Not just because of the patients surrounding him, but because his medication knocked him right out of his shoes. Something to help him sleep on his first night as Dr. Whitman had claimed and something to reduce the anxiety and stress he was suffering from. Dean felt that it would be useless to tell him that the only reason for his stress was him and this place and not his grief over his dad's death as the doctor claimed.

However, he was thankful for the medication he got. He didn't even know when he had slept through the night the last time or even more than four hours every other night. He couldn't deny that he felt better as he was awoken the next morning by a loud knock on the door that made him jolt awake. Immediately, his hand grabbed for the knife under his pillow only to find that there was nothing of that sort. It took him a moment to realize where he was again. The knock came again, more like a banging sound and Dean realized that he was meant to go to the door and show whoever it was standing there that he was awake. This was probably something like their morning drill. So, Dean crawled out of bed and noticed that he felt a little dizzy and wobbly on his knees as he staggered to the door like a baby deer. As he opened the door, he was squinting at the man in front of it because of the blinding light from the loud neon lights above. »Good Morning?« He mumbled sleepily and was repaid with a gruff »Good Morning« in return by the nurse before there was a small cup filled with a few pills shoved right under his nose for him to take. »More pills? Jesus … I've been here for not even twenty-four hours, aren't you guys overdoing it a little with the drugs?«

»These are only to help you reduce your stress and anxiety - and vitamins. Your blood results showed that you are severely malnutritioned, Mr. Winchester. We have to get your body back on track. Only in a healthy body lives a healthy mind.« Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes before he brought the cup to his lips and swallowed the pills dry. He knew the drill from TV and wasn't surprised as he was ordered to open his mouth to show the nurse that he had swallowed them.

»You sound just like my brother.« Dean remarked with a little scoff, but the nurse seemed unimpressed and ready to move on with his round. »Breakfast is ready in half an hour, Mr. Winchester. You might want to use the bathroom and showers beforehand.« And that he did. He needed to get rid of the sleep that was still clinging to him with an iron-clad grip. A cold shower sounded heavenly. Hell, if this wouldn't be a looney bin and if he hadn't more pressing matters to attend to, he would almost enjoy it here. Clear instructions, clear rules, clean surroundings, something to eat other than fast food, peace, and quietude. Well, quietude wasn't probably the right word.

When all of this was over, he would go on vacation into a nice wellness reservoir and let himself get pampered all day long.

After a brisk shower and changing into a new clean set of clothing that he found on his bed afterward, Dean walked into the dining room of this floor. Apparently, each ward had it's own dining room so that patients of different floors wouldn't meet too often. Probably to keep the really crazy people away from the half-crazy people and the men separated from the women. He wondered where on the spectrum he was and if this could be determined by the floor he was on. The building had four floors with the ground floor being the administration. So, if the fourth floor would be where the criminally insane were, those who needed to stay locked up in their rooms 24/7 and he was on the third floor already then … crap … he was seemingly quite insane. Who would have thought?

As he entered the dining room, most tables were already occupied and so Dean walked right over to one of the only three chairs in this room which happened to be at the table on which the very man he had found himself staring at yesterday was sitting after he had collected his breakfast from the buffet. It was almost comical, almost as if he was drawn to that dude with the squinty eyes and the bags under his way too blue eyes. »Been up all night reading?« To his surprise, there was nothing to eat on the table in front of the other dude, only a thick book lying in front of him as Dean put down his own tray on which he was balancing the plate and a cup of coffee. The meals were not really served on a buffet, though, but in lack of a better word to describe the row of plexiglass cabinets on the wall that were probably equipped with a system akin to a holding furnace to keep the meals in the cabinets warm for the patients, he would go with buffet. In every cabinet the patients could find a plate with already prepared food ready to take out and eat for each patient. The meals were all the same and so there would not be an argument about any of that. And to prevent further arguments and probably to help determine if every patient had eaten properly, the cabinets were even equipped with the name tags of the patients. So, it had been easy for _D. Winchester_ to find his designated plate of food. Only drinks were kept separated. At least the food in this place seemed to be half decent.

As the other man looked at him, he just squinted at him for a moment as if he honestly needed to think about Dean's question and determine what it could mean, before he opened his mouth to answer him. »I do not sleep.« He replied before he just stood up from his chair, grabbed his book and left Dean behind like a total idiot. Well, nothing new there.

Next time he saw this guy with the squinty eyes who seemed to be tired out of his mind by the looks of it, was during lunchtime. Again, he sat alone at one of the tables in the dining room and again there was nothing to eat in front of him, only the book he was reading and again, Dean sat down with him after he had collected his lunch.

»So you don't sleep, huh?« Dean confronted him like their conversation from the morning was still going on. If he wouldn't know better he would say that his presence was annoying to that poor guy, judging by the way he looked up from his book. He was almost sure that he would run off again wouldn't he do anything to prohibit that from happening.

»No.« He sighed and turned his attention back to his book as if he could just blend out Dean like this. »I do not need sleep.«

»Everyone needs sleep. And hell, I do know what I'm talking about, Dude. I’m Dean.«

For a moment, there was something akin to surprise on the face of the other young man as he raised his head once more to stare him directly and almost a bit unnervingly in the face, but it was gone too quickly for Dean to really analyze it. »Castiel.« The other man finally answered slowly. What a weird name.

»So, Castiel? Why are you here? Forgive me if I say so, but you don't strike me as crazy as most of the other people here.« In fact, he was one of the more quieter and calm looking people Dean had seen by now. Most of the other patients were loud and if not, they were plain creepy in the way they behaved and all of them looked odd - almost like they came straight out of Wonderland. Castiel, who was not too bad looking as Dean had to admit, stood out like a sore thumb. The only thing that was odd looking about him was his almost greyish skin tone, the bags and the dark circles under his eyes.

»That’s because I’m not crazy.« Castiel replied as calm as a crazy person could probably do. »I'm an Angel of the Lord.«

Dean couldn't help but blink at this. An angel. Well, what did he expect? He was in a mental asylum after all and of course he had picked the one guy who thought he was an angel to talk to. »Sure you are.« He choked on his lunch almost and if Castiel had noticed that little reaction and understood it in the way most sane people would, he didn't show it. »Well … Where are your wings then?« And on the same moment as he asked this question, his father’s words were back in his ears again, reminding him that there was no such thing as angels, sending shivers down his spine. As a child, he had liked to believe in angels. His mother had done so too and always claimed that there was an angel watching over Dean.  

»Humans can't usually see them, just like my true form. It can be overwhelming to people, as is my real voice.« He was talking in a quiet and monotone voice that didn't sound too unpleasant. Until now, Dean had not felt the desire of talking to any of these lunatics in here and he still didn't. However, he had time to burn between his therapy sessions, meals and medication times, so why shouldn't he talk to the guy? Maybe he could find out something actually useful about this place and it's staff while doing so, just in case they would refuse to realize that he didn't belong here.

»So« Dean began again as he started eating. It was a bit weird for him to have regular meals. »Aren't you hungry?«

»I don't eat.«

»Why don't you eat, Cas?« This time, the angel was the one to blink at his choice of name for him. He didn't seem to want to protest his new nickname, though and Dean felt as if he had made a new friend. Well, a friend who was clinically insane and thought he was an angel but a friend nonetheless.

»Angels don't eat.«

»You just never tried pudding.«

Before Castiel could say anything, Dean had taken his own pudding from his tray and shoved it towards him. Usually, he would not share his meal and most certainly not any dessert he was given, but something in Castiel made him rethink this rule of his. Confused blue eyes blinked back at him and then down on the pudding as if he had never seen delicious vanilla pudding ever in his life. Well, he was in a madhouse. Who was he to judge?As Castiel did not make a move on the pudding at first, Dean grabbed his hand over the table to place his unused spoon into Castiel’s hand.

»Now eat up, Buddy. You know how to eat, right? And then you tell me all about how an Angel of the Lord ended up in this place.« As long as he was here, he might as well enjoy himself a little, right? Even if that meant to talk to someone like Castiel. At least Cas was not mumbling in a corner to a doll or looking at him with crazed eyes. At least he was not singing _Old MacDonald_ for hours or told him stories about how he was kidnapped by Aliens once. Dean was here for only a few hours now, barely even forty-eight hours and already he was sick of most people in this place.

One thing was certain, if he wasn't crazy, he would become crazy in no time in this place, all the while everyone told him that his life up until this point was nothing more than a fantasy to cope with the reality of things. He started to feel offended, then again he was aware just how crazy his life must sound to strangers. That was why his dad and he had all those fake ID’s after all so that they would not need to tell the truth to anyone. People didn't want to hear the truth. People rather believed in the things they could see, people rather believed in what was common sense. They didn't want the truth because the truth often was uncomfortable and ugly.

He thought about Sam. His brother had lamented on and on about wanting to know the truth about their father's death and yet, Dean was aware that he couldn't handle the truth. That he was now in this facility after his brother had him committed like a nutjob was the perfect proof of that. And even when he would one day manage to get out of here, would he and his brother become a team again? Would they overcome this right here? Could he ever trust Sam again?

»It's good.« Castiel’s deep voice ripped him from his thoughts and only then Dean realized that he had been staring mindlessly at the man in front of him who had started to eat the pudding. After another spoonful of pudding, Castiel’s expression changed, there even was the beginning of a smile blossoming on his face now, all teeth, highlighting the little simples he had. »For some reason … This makes me very happy.«

»No shit, Sherlock.« Dean smirked as he kept digging into his own food. »So, tell me now, how did you end up in here?«

Castiel shrugged his shoulders. »I was brought here against my will, same as you. The people I talked to thought I was crazy.« Dean didn't even ask how Castiel knew that he had been brought here against his well. It was probably obvious. Who in their right mind would come to such a place of their own volition?

»So … But if it's true and you are an angel, why aren't you just leaving then?« Dean asked between bites.

»It seems that my powers are blocked for some odd reason.« Well wasn't that just convenient? Judging by the way Castiel looked at him now, Dean almost felt as if that angel could read his mind. »You don't believe me.« Castiel said in a matter-of-fact tone that almost made Dean choke on his steak.

»Listen, Buddy, I’ve heard much weirder stuff in my life, okay? I mean, I’m hunting monsters ever since I was little, so why shouldn't there be angels, too, right?« He didn't even quite know why he tried to ensure Castiel that he didn't thought he was crazy when that was clearly what Dean thought about the other man as Castiel probably thought that Dean was crazy too.

»You hunt monsters?« Castiel replied. »You have to admit that sounds a bit crazy, right?«

»Not as crazy as a dude who thinks he’s an angel.« They shared a small grin, like a cosmic joke only they knew the true meaning of and which they still couldn't fully grasp themselves. It was an odd little moment and yet, Dean felt as if he already knew this man. His blue eyes and the way he was wrinkling his forehead was oddly familiar to Dean, as was his entire presence as if he had felt it before. »What are you reading anyway?« Dean finally nodded to the book that was still lying in front of Castiel. First, the angel dropped his eyes on the book only to look at Dean through his eyelashes in a way as if that was the stupidest question he had ever heard and, true enough, as Dean got to hear the answer, he felt exactly like that too.

»The Bible.«

Once again, Dean almost choked on his food and could barely hold back the laughter that was, true to form, building up in his throat. »Spoiler warning: Jesus dies.« The look Castiel shot him in response to this crappy joke of his was simply priceless and although Dean had expected some bitchy comment in response, Castiel surprised him as he smirked.

As the day came to its end, Dean was already fed up with being fed pills every few hours of which he didn't even know the true purpose or name at the very least. However, at least he didn't feel as though those pills were messing with him, so why not take them. His first day hadn't been too bad, he concluded as he later laid down in his bed. No one had tried to violently therapy him against his will, no one had asked him about his _daddy issues_. All in all, it had been a good day. Still, that group therapy session he had been forced to attend, would probably never leave him. Wouldn't he be locked into this place and forced to go through with all of that, it would have been comical. Apparently, he was not alone with his _monster fantasies_ but those he got to hear in this group therapy had been beyond ridiculous.

Was this how the doctors and nurses looked at him too? Like just one more lunatic who saw tentacle monsters around every corner or people with sheers for hands? Hell, if it would be as easy, it would be a dream come true and a lot less terrifying than the things he actually had to deal with on a regular basis ever since he was four years old. At least for this day, he had proven himself to be one of the most well-behaved and cooperative patients here. A saint among the lunatics. Just like the angel Castiel.

Sammy would love to hear about the angel.

He found himself stopping at this thought. Sam … Well … The old Sammy would have loved to hear about the angel. However, this new Sam, the college student whom Dean had met at Stanford the other day, he didn't know. He was a stranger to him. His little brother, whom he had raised all his life was gone as it seemed. Maybe that was the worst in all of this. Not only had his father died a horrible gruesome death while Dean had not even been able to do anything about it, no, his brother too was gone and apparently forgot everything about their life together as a team. They had been inseparable growing up. He and Sam against the rest of the world. Was he the only one who had seen it this way? Had Sam perceived it differently, maybe? Had he been a burden to his brother? Had their life together been nothing but a nightmare to Sam? Had he been glad that Dean and their dad weren't a part of his life any longer after he had left them for Stanford? Had he been happy in this new life of his? Truly happy? On his own and without his family?

Hell, he should have never gone to him for help. Sam deserved a normal life. In truth, that was everything Dean had ever hoped for his brother. He had done everything in his power so that Sam might have a future outside of the family business. But seeing it now, realizing that this was exactly what Sam had managed to get while he was still the old Dean, hurt more than he was willing to admit because, despite everything, Dean knew that he would never get that. Even if he would get out of this facility, even if he would get his brother back on his side, even if he would find that demon that killed his dad and his mom, in the end, Dean knew that he would never get that nice little house in that nice quiet neighborhood, with that white picket fence, the beautiful wife and the bunch of kids with whom he would play in the garden on Sundays. He would die doing this job. Maybe it was better if he wouldn't get Sammy involved.

The lights were switched off at ten without a warning beforehand and so, Dean found himself in total darkness all of the sudden in the middle of reading the book he had taken from the library this morning. Well wasn't that just delightful. With a groan, he put his book on the bedside table and turned on his side. He could, of course, just turn on the lamp on his bedside table, but for some reason, Dean was tired out of his mind anyway. Of course, this was beyond weird - then again, Dean was almost certain that he had been fed sleeping pills again tonight.

However, as he lay in total darkness, Dean wasn't able to find rest anyway. He thought about the nights he had spent in dirty motel rooms with his brother and how he had searched under his bed for monsters every night when their father hadn't been there to do that. He remembered, how he paced through the room, looking under the beds and into the closet, making sure nothing could come in through the windows or the door, double checking that the salt lines were intact and shivering in the darkness with his brother closely by his side.

Looking back at his childhood now, he had never felt quite safe when night fell. Not even with his dad around. _Especially not with his dad around?_ However, his dad had made sure that the monsters couldn't get to him and Sammy. Who would make sure that the monsters couldn't get to him and Sammy now that he was no longer around? Who would check under his bed from now on? How could he move forward from now on?

He couldn't help but think about Castiel as he was turning around again so that he could lie flat on the way too soft mattress and stare at the ceiling through the darkness. He remembered his mother clearly, unlike Sam. He remembered her voice, her smell and the way she had smiled at him. The most clearly he remembered her telling him that the angels were watching over him up to this day. She had believed in those things and a part of him, despite his father telling him that there was no such thing as angels, had wanted to believe it too. Maybe she had been right after all. Maybe Castiel was not crazy. When he, Dean Winchester, could end up in a place like this although what he said was the truth and no fabrication of his imagination and the paranoid delusions of his father, then surely an Angel of the Lord could end up in a place like this too.

Maybe Castiel had been sent here to watch over him.

 

**-End of Chapter 3-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3


	4. Chapter 4

The noise was always the same. Every day the people around him were screaming and yelling and talking to themselves in hushed voices as if no one would be able to hear them like this. The worst was the crying. Growing men who cried like little children because the voices inside their heads wouldn't stop saying awful things or were trying to make them _do_ awful things. Castiel almost felt for them. He knew a thing or two about voices inside his own head too, but he knew that his voices were not figments of an overly active imagination. For once, because he was the least imaginative _person_ God could have ever willed into existence and, secondly because he knew that his voices were very much real. He couldn't always hear them but when he did his head was aching and he wasn't even able to tell if that was because of that frail human being he possessed or because the angels were just so loud.

Either way, his voices could not be silenced with pills or therapy and the doctors seemed to understand that by now. However, just because they started to understand that there was no betterment in his condition, did not mean they would stop trying shoving pills down his throat, so Castiel took them willingly. They, of course, refused to call him by his name. Well, most of them refused to do so. At least Dr. Whitman had accepted the name he had told him. For the rest of the hospital staff, he was Jimmy Novak. _Jimmy_ , however, was long dead. It was a shame, really. Not that Castiel would miss having yet another voice inside of his head, really, but this man had not deserved to die like this.

His whole family had not deserved the hand they had been dealt. And Castiel … Well, he could not deny that he felt a deep sense of guilt over their deaths. Yes, Jimmy had been a God-fearing man and so was his wife and yet, had he known what it would mean to say yes to Castiel, he would have probably not done it.

A part of him felt lonely since Jimmy had left this body and there was no one he could talk to about that. No one who would believe him, at least. No one who would understand the deep sense of grieve that Castiel was experiencing on a daily basis for his vessel’s original owner. However, when he was staring at himself in the mirror these days, he didn't saw Jimmy Novak any longer. This body was no longer just a vessel. This was _him_. The thought was weird, but it was how he felt and sometimes he had a hard time remembering his true face even.

Then again … These days he had a hard time remembering _anything_.

There were certain things that he still remembered, though. Names, vague memories of long forgotten times. The voice of one of his older brothers and the feeling of his big warm hand wrapped around Castiel's, the salty smell of the sea as they stood at a shore somewhere on this planet and a playful voice telling him not to step on a certain fish. However, he had no face to this voice. Everything that he knew about himself seemed to vanish with each day that he spent in this facility. His brain was foggy, yet he found joy in the simplest things. In reading, in watching the bees outside in the garden. Yet he knew that there was something more important waiting for him outside of this place. Just … He couldn't remember what it was. There was just a name that was almost burned into the forefront of his mind. Dean Winchester. And even that name was slipping away.

※※※※※※※

It had been snowing on the day he had come down to earth. That was the one thing he could remember clearly to this day. He had awoken in a field of snow on the evening of January 24th 2006 in Pontiac, Illinois. He remembered the voice of his vessel, Jimmy, talking to him, praying every night to be of help to the Lord until Castiel had been allowed to answer him.

»Castiel« The voice of Dr. Whitman was ripping him right out of those memories as he looked up at him from the little origami figure he was trying to fold. He had found a book about Origami in the library the other day and requested some paper to try it out. His privileges were scarce but as long as he would behave well, he would get to keep his paper.

»Did you know that paper was first brought to Japan in the year 610 by Buddhist monks from China? Of course, it took a while for the Japanese people to fully appreciate it for what it was - but that seems to be a common trend among the human race. Anyway, Origami was the big thing during the Muromachi period in Japan, which was from 1333 until 1568 and later during the Edo period from 1603 until 1868. Although during that time the required paper was quite expensive and so it was mostly used for ceremonial purposes. I feel like the human race forgot how valuable paper is these days. I mean, sure, it's quite cheap in these modern times and the manufacturing process fast and easy, but most people tend to forget that trees are chopped down every day just to make the paper on which they can scribble their little notes and random ideas. The jump in technology might have been a miracle for this planet and it's ecosystem, after all, who needs paper when they can scribble their notes on electronic devices instead? However, the manufacturing of those devices too put a whole new strain on the planet and its ecosystem. It's a shame, really. You know, I still remember how paper was first invented-«

»Castiel.« The voice was a little louder this time and a whole lot more firm. This time, as Castiel directed Jimmy’s blue eyes at the doctor sitting on the other side of the table and tapping his pencil against his notepad, Castiel realized that he had probably not reacted to an earlier question as he had been so engulfed in his exercise. Funnily enough, the doctor had encouraged him to make his origami figures during their sessions because he thought it would help him focus. Well, for the most part it did.

Castiel enjoyed the sessions with Dr. Whitman, unlike many of the other patients who were dreading coming into his office to talk to him about their psychosis. Castiel had no problem with talking about the things the doctor would ask him about. He would answer him as truthfully as he could and move on with his life. The doctor seemed to be quite the understanding and compassionate man, wise beyond his years too and had written several bestsellers on the topic of dreams in therapy and childhood trauma. He was a luminary in his field of work. He enjoyed being in the presence of such a bright mind although to Castiel it was sad to know that it was now only a matter of years until Alzheimers would start eating away at this brilliant mind. Well, the human life was short and rarely fair.

»Yes, Dr. Whitman?« He asked as politely as possible.

»Castiel … I would like to come back to our previous conversation.« He said leaning back in his chair and Castiel couldn't help but notice the small sigh escaping him at the same time.

»Of course, Doctor.« Castiel replied with a smile. »If I remember correctly we spoke about the fact that the slow extinction of the common honey bee-«

»I'm afraid I wasn't referring to that part of our conversation.«

»Oh.« Castiel swallowed on the lump in his throat as he himself leaned back in his chair now. »You mean-«

»The night you were brought to this hospital, yes.«

»I told you before, Dr. Whitman, I don't remember that night.«

»But you do remember the house, don't you?«

»Only in fragments.« Castiel shrugged and lowered his eyes down on the crane he was folding. One of the other patients, a guy named Steve with the mind of a five year old boy had requested it after he had seen Castiel produce some of his other origami figures and Castiel was happy to deliver. »You know, Doc, sometimes it pains me to walk these floors and see all that suffering.«

»Is that so?«

»Yes.« He wrinkled his forehead thinking about it. »You know … Previously … All I would have needed to do was to touch every last one of those patients in here, just a tiny touch to the forehead, and they would have been healed from their pain and their insanity. They would have been free to walk the earth again, completely sane and healthy.« Although, now that he came to think about it, that was probably not in the best interest of Dr. Whitman or any other professional working in this field.

»Previously?« Dr. Whitman enquired and his stare grew more intense now. »You mean, before you came down to earth.«

»Yes.« He answered curtly. »But ever since I've come down here again, something just doesn't feels right, you know? It's like my grace is missing. I do not have control over the powers all angels possess any longer and huge chunks of my memories seem to be missing too. It's almost as if someone _wanted_ me to fail my quest.«

»And that quest is…«

»That is the problem, Doctor. I don't remember it.«

»But you think this … _grace_ of yours is missing since you came down to earth.«

»Yes.«

»Well, maybe the loss of your grace might be connected to what happened to your family then.«

»You mean _Jimmy’s_ family … The Novaks. I don't know what this does have to do with my grace. It's not bound to such earthly things.«

»Maybe you feel like you are tainted by the tragedy that befell your family, Castiel. Maybe that is why you feel that your grace and your wings are gone, because you feel guilty for what happened, maybe you even feel responsible.«

»Are you referring to my possible involvement in this?« He remembered the questions that had been thrown at him right away. He remembered the angry policemen talking down on him. He remembered all these things but the important stuff he had forgotten and that was driving him insane.

»Well, we both know that there is no proof of that. But only because you might not have been involved in this tragedy directly, does not mean that your subconscious does not supply you with a big dose of guilt over what happened.« He gently offered as an explanation and as Castiel's confused stare hit him, the doctor even smiled. »That is the thing with the subconscious mind of us _humans_ , Castiel. You don't always need to be at fault for something to feel like you are. For example: Let's say a man finds out his wife is cheating on him and not because of something he did or didn't do but solely because she wants to, because it is her desire to do. This man could still feel guilt over that fact and will maybe even search for the blame within himself. Or a young girl whose parents died in a car crash on the way to pick her up from school will most likely blame herself instead of the drunk driver who cut her parents off.«

»This concept eludes every bit of logic.« Castiel replied with a frown. »Why would the husband of the wife would feel guilty for her adultery? And why would that poor girl blame herself for the crime of someone else?«

»Exactly.«

»Exactly what?«

»That is exactly the point, Castiel. _That_ is human nature. We tend to blame ourselves for things that eludes our own responsibility. That man in our little case study here is not at fault for his wife's adultery and yet he will find excuses as to why he didn't give his wife another chance than to betray him. That girl is not at fault for her parents death by the hand of a drunk driver and yet she will find a reason why it was her fault that they came into that situation. The man will say something like ‘ _I was not there for her when she needed me. I did not give her the attention she deserved’_ . The girl will say ‘ _If they would not have needed to pick me up, they would not have gotten in that car and they would not have had this accident_ ’. That is human nature. Perhaps the wife would have cheated on her husband even if he would have been the most perfect husband any woman could ever dream of and maybe the girl’s parents would have died anyway that day through something entirely else. It doesn't matter. Their subconsciousness will tell them that it's their fault and perhaps, the same is true for you too. You blame yourself for what happened that night and that is why you prefer to be _Castiel_ , the fallen angel, instead of Jimmy Novak, who lost everything that night.«

Castiel was quiet for a moment and just focused on his paper crane again while he was trying to make sense of this entirely new concept the doctor was presenting to him now. »So … You are saying, my subconsciousness might make me feel like I was the guilty one in what happened to them that night, although I was not even there to stop any of this and couldn't possibly have known that this would happen.«

»Yes.«

»That does not make sense.« Castiel remarked once again as he was finishing up the crane. »However, I believe if I was a human being with human emotions, I would get what you mean. If I were Jimmy Novak, then yes, I believe you are right, he would feel guilty. However, if I were Jimmy Novak, this tragedy might not have struck in the first place.«

»Ah, now we are getting somewhere, Castiel.« The doctor smiled and once more Castiel looked at him in confusion. »So, there we have it, don't you think? Let's assume that what you told me is true and you are indeed an Angel of the Lord. Would you not have taken over Jimmy’s body, it is in the realm of possibilities that this tragedy might not have happened. However, it is also very possible that it would have happened anyway and that Jimmy wouldn't have been able to do anything about it too. We will never know what might have happened but the sole fact that you are considering that it had something to do with the fact that you have taken over Jimmy’s body tells me that you do in fact feel guilty about what happened to Jimmy’s family.«

Castiel was quiet again as he thought about that. The doctor had a point, he assumed. »Maybe you are right.« He agreed. »But I still don't know what this might have to do with my Grace.«

»Because you feel guilty on a subconscious level, you are blocking your powers as a form of punishment. Your subconsciousness tells you that you have blood on your hands and because of that you have fallen from grace.« Again, he had a point, he assumed and yet it still eluded Castiel in it's full emotional impact. Humans just didn't quite know on what level an angel like him was operating. »And maybe that is why you refuse to look at reflecting surfaces either, Castiel. However, I am afraid that we have run out of time for today.«

Castiel’s eyes moved to the clock over the door behind him and he realized that the Dr. Whitman was indeed right, they had run out of time already and for Castiel it was time to bring the paper crane to Steve. So, Castiel gathered his papers and raised from his chair. »Thank you for your time, Dr. Whitman.« He smiled before he left the room and as soon as he walked through that door, he left the serene calmness of Dr. Whitman’s office to dive right back into the circus of the madhouse.

※※※※※※※

It wasn't so much that Castiel truly had a problem with looking in the mirror per se, even if the doctor thought that he had. But no. It weren't mirrors that were the problems. Hell, they had done nothing wrong, right? It was just the reflection that he would find staring back at him through the glass and his constant awareness, that he should probably not be fazed by having Jimmy Novak’s face stare back at him. That was the deal, after all, wasn't it? Yet, it felt like living in a morgue and Castiel did not quite know if he could even understand what that meant. This seemed to be a very human thing to experience and if Castiel was anything, then it was truly not human.

And yet, looking in the mirror and seeing James Novak, was truly unsettling. Then again it was only a few months since he had taken over this vessel. Everything was still new to him. Not only having a human body like Jimmy’s but being on earth as a whole, although it wasn't the first time for him.Everything concerning this planet seemed oddly weird to him at times and yet irresistible at the same instant. It was the smallest things that were so utterly fascinating to Castiel that regular humans would only shake their head about his reaction. Small things like bees, children playing on the playground, the sound of laughter or the wind in the leaves of some old tree. He could not yet fully grasp it, but those were the things he could occupy himself with for hours and yet he was aware that he had a mission to accomplish. A mission that he could not remember and that was entirely the point.

It would later turn out that this new patient, Dean, was also something he could occupy his mind with for hours, but that Castiel couldn't have known as he had first seen him on this day in the library. He had caught him staring but unlike most other patients in this facility, Castiel did not mind being stared at. It was what people did, apparently and this human in particular. First, Castiel had not paid him too much attention as their eyes first met in the library, although he couldn't deny the spark of interest that had immediately been ignited in his mind. It had taken him a moment or two to realize that this was not just interest, not only just curiosity but a certain sense of recognition on his part.

Needless to say, Dean’s green eyes had not left him until he had seen them the next morning. However, if someone were to ask him why he had left his table in the dining room as soon as Dean had sat down with him and started talking, he would not have an answer for once in his life. Luckily, Dean, as he then introduced himself to Castiel during lunch, was a persistent guy. A persistent guy who did not even bat a lash as Castiel said that he was an angel, which might only be proof of his own insanity. Only an insane man would accept another man’s insane claim of being an angel that willingly and open-minded. Even Castiel could understand that Dean’s reaction was far from being normal - then again, what did normal even mean in a place like this?

»I've heard you found a new friend today, Castiel.« The Doctor hummed from behind his desk as Castiel looked out of the window that was overlooking the yard and the little herb garden that was looked after by the patients, including Castiel. He loved his hours in the garden especially now that the world was starting to realize that summer was approaching in big steps. As he turned around to look at the doctor with confusion probably very clear on his face, Dr. Whitman just smiled. »Dean Winchester, our newest addition to the circus, as you once called it.«

»I can not remember ever having referred to this place of healing as a circus.« Castiel replied turning away from the window to take back his seat opposite the desk. Dr. Whitman once said that most patients preferred sitting on the comfortable looking couch that stood in his office and yet, Castiel rather sat on the chair on the other side of that desk. »I would never say something that disrespectful and thus discredit your work or the suffering of the patients at this institution.« He noticed the small chuckle that escaped the doctor and assumed he had just said something amusing. The concept of humor was still a bit confusing to him. Well, the human sense of humor, of course. It was not that very differently from the angelic kind of humor and yet, it was different enough that Castiel had problems understanding it.

However, this was not the answer Dr. Whitman wanted to hear and Castiel knew that very well. » _Friend_ might be a strong word, Dr. Whitman.« He then replied calmly. »I just met him. He ate lunch at the same table as I.«

»One of the nurses told me he gave you his pudding.«

»He did, actually.«

»Castiel, you do know that we need to talk about your eating habits, don't you? You could have gotten your own meal.«

»I am aware of that, Doctor. I didn't ask him to give me his pudding either. I told him that I do not need to eat, however, he, _Dean_ , demanded that I should try the pudding. I have to admit that he had a point there. The pudding was indeed delicious and I am tempted to get one for myself next time.« At this thought, he stopped for a moment. »However, I am a little concerned about the process of digestion of that pudding now. You see, that was never a problem I had to deal with until this day. The process confuses me a little and does not seem to be very pleasant judging by what I saw on TV or witnessed from the other patients. I must say that I do not wish to wear diapers like some of the other patients do because they are not in charge of their bowel movements.«

»I think we can help you with that whole ordeal when the time for it comes, Castiel. For now, you should not worry about such things. And I would like to employ you to eat your meals regularly from now on. We don't want to have you force fed again, do we?«

There was a vague memory somewhere in the depths of his brain, but Castiel was not quite able to grasp it or understand what the doctor was referring to. Instead, another part of his brain decided to take over. »You seem concerned about my exchange with Dean Winchester.« That name. The more he heard it, the more familiar it sounded. Dean Winchester. Weird. He was sure that he should know that name and what it meant to him as a person and yet, he couldn't quite grasp it.

»Concerned?«

»Do you not wish that I might deepen that friendship as you called it and get to know this man?«

»Oh, no, I wouldn't say that, Castiel. I couldn't demand you to stay away from Mr. Winchester anyway and until now I do not have a decent enough reason to even think about asking you for something like this.« He sighed. »No. As far as I am concerned, you might very well proceed in talking to him if that is what you liked to do. It's too early to determine if that connection might help both of you in getting better or do the exact opposite of your mental health. However, as soon as I might see a negative change I will put an end to that. For now, I do believe that it is good for you to open up to other patients and forge relationships. Human contact is the best medicine any of us could ever hope for, Castiel and I would be glad to see that you are finally overcoming the demons of your past.«

Demons, what a funny thing to say to an angel, Castiel later thought as he was walking down the hall towards his room. He had skipped dinner and not ventured into the dining room. Not because he would be avoiding Dean or anyone for that matter, only because he didn't feel the need to go there if he wouldn't eat anyway. Instead, he wanted to go back to his room right away and continue reading. He had only a few hours until the lights would be turned off and although that wouldn't stop him from reading anyway, he felt drawn to the solitude of his own four walls.

Maybe it had a little to do with the fact that he felt he needed to get his head clear again. He always felt a little loopy after being fed his meds and he wanted to remember just why Dean's name was so familiar. Sitting down on his bed was almost comforting. This room was his own little fortress and yet, the nights were mostly the worst and that not because of nightmares Castiel would suffer from. No, it was the patients around him. They screamed and cried at night like children in need of help, however, there was nothing Castiel could do for them.

With every night he would spend in this place, he felt like he was losing more and more of his memories and more of his mission. He knew that he had been sent down to earth for one specific thing, to help one specific person and yet it was impossible for him to remember why or who that person was. He felt tired, as the lights were switched off later that night and this revelation almost prompted him to get up again. He felt _tired_. He wasn't supposed to feel tired or hungry and yet that was what he felt and he didn't know what to do with that new information.

After he switched on the reading lamp on his bedside table, Castiel returned to reading and tried to drown out the sounds all around him, echoing through these halls like phantoms of pain and suffering and long forgotten times. This place had been numerous things throughout its existence. For example, a hospital mainly for TB patients or other similar infectious and devastating diseases. But for the longest part it had been a mental asylum and so Castiel was sure that there were more than enough ghosts roaming these halls trying to find a way out of this world. If he would still be in possession of his powers, he would be able to help but now, as things were, he was not much of a help for anyone. Let alone himself.

The Bible that he had found in the library was beautifully illustrated and Castiel had taken it upon himself to draw one or two of the pictures on the thick drawing paper he had gotten throughout his time here and hung them up on his wall. That too seemed to be a very human thing to do, still, the act of drawing these things had calmed his nerves. He wasn't supposed to have flattering nerves. He was supposed to be calm and strong and yet he seemed to waste away in this place like a rose losing its petals. He thought about Dean Winchester again, who was still so cocky in his attitude as if this was just some random experience as if he would be out of here in no time again and Castiel even believed that if anyone would be able to escape then it was him. Odd, how he came to this conclusion even though he hardly knew the guy. It was probably just his aura making Castiel assume these things about him.

That, however, prompted him to wonder if he wanted to get out of here at all. As long as he didn't know what he was supposed to be doing out in the real world, he might as well stay here and try to get behind his mission and why his powers were gone.

It was hours like these when the night was at it's darkest, that Castiel missed his wings the most. Suddenly, in the dim light of his reading lamp, the pictures of the angels in the bible, his brothers, and sisters, stared right back at him mockingly, and Castiel had to watch once again how their beautifully drawn faces distorted into the grimaces of demons in front of his very eyes, laughing about him. He closed the book and placed it quietly on the bedside table before he got up again and moved towards his barred up window.

It was a full moon outside and the wind was ruffling through the leaves of the trees surrounding the area. The asylum was a little out of town as to not disturb the normal part of society. This was the intent, Castiel assumed, although the people in charge would probably say that it served only the purpose of making sure the patients could get better in privacy and seclusion without prying eyes and the distractions of a buzzing city nearby. Whatever it was, Castiel didn't care much for the distractions of a buzzing city or to get better in privacy. He liked it out here. He liked the trees surrounding the hospital, the remote and quiet stretch of country road leading towards the asylum. However, as he stared outside now, he felt like there were faces in the trees, looking back at him with gloomy eyes, nightmarish visions of the underworld, taunting the fallen angel.

He didn't know why and he wasn't able to really contemplate the feeling that suddenly took a hold of him, but Castiel felt clearly how a wave of nausea hit him in the stomach and made him stumble backward. Was this panic he felt? He couldn't quite name it yet. Still, his instincts screamed at him to get out of that room before those monsters could grab him, could grab … someone else. He didn't know who. He only knew that he was supposed to protect someone, but he couldn't remember the name.

His feet hurried to the door of his room and as his hands closed around the doorknob he was reminded of the fact that his door was locked overnight. He rattled the doorknob like only a human would do in a fit of panic, not realizing that rattling the doorknob was not going to help. Through the window in his door, he could see the lights of the hallway flicker and dim down. There was no one around, no one patrolling these hallways now. Shouldn't there be a nurse walking down this floor? Shouldn't there be someone making sure that everything was okay with the patients? The screaming and crying outside of his room had stopped by now and only in this moment did Castiel realize that as a fact. Maybe he was just so used to these pitiful sounds that he drowned them out remotely by now and only the absence of these sounds was something he would notice after a while.

»Help!« He found himself yelling and hardly recognized the voice leaving his mouth, graveling and dark and full of fear. This was a human sound but nothing he would produce usually. »Help! Somebody!« A fist was banging on the door of his room and it took him a moment or two to realize that it was his own fist, Jimmy’s fist, that was making this noise. »Please, someone has to get me out of here!« The words were flowing without his consent and a part of him wondered if this was Jimmy. If Jimmy wasn't dead, just hiding.

There were footsteps coming down the hall and the light was still flickering. The nurse moving down the hall from the right towards his door did not seem to mind the flickering lights, however. Was he not seeing what Castiel saw? »Please, let me out before the monsters get me!« What monsters? What could Jimmy see that he didn't see? No, James Novak was dead. He had felt him die that night. He was gone. This body, Jimmy’s body, was his body now. This was Castiel, not Jimmy, not anyone else. »Please, they almost got me!« He could feel them breathe down his neck, he could sense them behind his back, he could feel their presence, lingering in the shadows of his room.

»Not again, Jimmy.« The nurse groaned as he stopped in front of the door. Castiel could not even see his face properly. The light right outside his door had gone out and left them in darkness. It was cold despite that it was already May, it was freezing cold tonight and Castiel could see his breath from little white clouds in front of his face. The nurse did not seem to notice or feel what he felt. »Every goddamn night it's the same thing with you. There are no monsters, Jimmy.«

»Don't you see them?« Castiel yelled back at him. »They are right there! How do you not see them?«

As the nurse lifted up his head to look directly at Castiel, the light above him turned on again. Horror gripped his heart tightly as Castiel stumbled away from the door. Dead, cold, burned out eyes were staring directly back at him. Gaping black burned holes looked at him through the little window where once the eyes of that nurse were and a menacing grin spread over his face, exposing a row of razor sharp teeth like those of a shark. »What's wrong, Castiel?« The nurse asked and his voice was no longer his voice but a garbled mess of sounds coming straight out of hell. »You wanted a monster, didn't you?«

»Who are you?« Castiel screamed as he heard the sounds of the door being unlocked. He stumbled further back as the door to his room was opened and the nurse - the thing - stepped inside. Only as he hit his bedside table, Castiel was forced to stop.

»Don't you recognize me, brother?« Angels weren't supposed to look like that. And Castiel found himself screaming at the monster in front of him as it tried to get a hold of him. He found himself kicking and punching and biting and trying his best to fight that thing off of him before it could corrupt him further. He knew now that this monster was responsible for the loss of his wings and his powers and that it would try and devour him for good. No, it would claim his body, cast him out and complete its own mission.

What mission? What was it that Castiel was not supposed to remember? What was he not allowed to remember?

»Azazel has almost succeeded.« The monster spat. »Lilith will be free and when the sixty-sixth seal is broken, Lucifer will roam this planet. You can do nothing against that, Brother. You will sit here and rot like the rest of these pathetic human beings. You will not be able to prohibit any of this. The apocalypse already started and you will have the front seat watching it. And I will burn you myself when the moment comes to do that. Michael will come down to earth one last time to burn it all.«

 

**-End of Chapter 4-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3


	5. Chapter 5

Castiel was not there as Dean entered the dining room as the next morning came. The whole night he had spent dead asleep which was quite odd for someone with a life like his. His head even hurt because of all the sleep and rest he was getting in this place if that was even possible. Still, although he had slept through the night, he did not feel rested. He felt tired and antsy. This was probably his subconsciousness reminding him that he was wasting his time in here. That he had work to do out there in the real world.

»How have you settled in?« Dr. Whitman’s voice was friendly enough, he supposed. He had the same calm voice as most physicians Dean had spoken to in his life - mostly under the guise of one of his aliases to further a case that he and his dad would have been working on. Dean knew how to talk to people, thanks to his father's teaching. He knew how to sweet talk his way out of a situation and how to convince others of his intentions. That was not just true for the ladies. He was good at his job. Then again, most people who he would talk to on these cases wanted to hear certain things, wanted to believe certain things, and Dean usually knew what these things were and was thus able to deliver. It seemed differently here. He could tell already that Dr. Whitman would not be so easily fooled by him. Not that it would matter. If he would see that he wouldn't get out of this place on the official route, well, he could always just escape. He was great in finding escape routes. And hell, if it would mean he would need to act a certain way or promise certain favors to the nurses, then to hell with decency or upholding his masculinity, right?

Well, no. That was not quite him. No … That was not quite the Dean his father had raised, right? But those two Deans, the one he was inside and the one his father had raised - They were quite different people, wasn't that the truth? Hell, this place started getting to him already. It must be the drugs. He should stop taking them.

»Okay, I guess.« Dean replied as he was putting his fingers through the blinds in front of the window to pry them open a little and have a small look outside. »I mean, it's not the Ritz, but I have seen much worse.« He then turned around with a cocky little grin only to make his way to the other side of the room and have a look at all the books that the doctor had collected on his shelves. Hell, Sammy would love this place. Then again, Sammy had seen this place already.

Dean was very aware of the eyes following him and he wouldn't lie, being clothed in this _uniform_ all patients had to wear, made him feel oddly exposed.

»Mr. Winchester-«

»Dean’s alright.« Dean cut him off as he pulled one of the books out of the shelf. It was about homestyle cooking. An odd choice for an office of that sort. Well, who was he to judge? »Mr. Winchester is - was - my father.«

»Dean then.« Dr. Whitman replied softer. »Dean, would you like to take a seat?« As Dean turned to glance over his shoulder he saw how Dr. Whitman motioned for him to take a seat on the chair on the other side of his desk. The couch was looking quite comfortable too, but somehow Dean was more drawn to that leather armchair, so, with a moment of hesitation probably all too present on his face, he turned to walk to the desk and sit down. The moment he did that, however, Dean felt almost as if he had been fallen right into the good doctor’s trap.

»So, Doc, what's it gonna be today? Are you going to ask me about my mom or my daddy issues? Or are we going straight to the juicy part where you ask me everything you want to know about my sex life - which, I can assure you, is quite the interesting topic that will probably need more than just a few hours of your time to explore.« His words at least managed to bring a little smirk to the doctor's face, but just as he opened his mouth to start talking, Dean cut him off again. »Did Sam - Did my brother call by now? I mean … did he ask for permission to visit yet?« It was his second day only and surely Sam had more than enough to do with his fancy college stuff.

»I'm afraid not, Dean. It's a little early anyway. We usually tend to allow visits only after a few weeks so that our patients can settle down peacefully and on their own terms, away from family and friends that might cause a distraction in this very vital process and important phase of the rehabilitation. Of course, as soon as your brother calls, I will tell you about it and nothing will prohibit him or you from writing letters at all times too.« That was reasonable enough, Dean assumed, although it was not what he had wanted to hear. Then again, he was used to not getting to hear what he wanted to hear. »You seem to have a very close connection to your brother, a very tight-knit relationship.«

»We used to have, yeah. Before he forced me into the loony bin, of course. Now, I would gladly like to kick that ungrateful lil’ shit’s ass for putting me here.« Dean scoffed before he rolled his eyes as he noticed how the doctor started scribbling in his notes. » _However_ , I understand why he had to do this.« He sighed deeply like a defeated man who was admitting that he was maybe wrong about something. »And after I kicked his ass for doing that, I would, most likely, forgive him anyway. I always do - and to my great dismay, Sammy knows that too.«

»You care a lot about him.«

»Is that a question or a statement?« Dean snarled. »Yeah, I do. ‘Course I do. I pretty much raised that lil’ shit.« As he leaned back in the actually quite comfortable chair he extended his legs and crossed his arms, lounging on the chair as to show the doctor that he was not afraid of him or his questions. Why would he anyway? Oh no, Dean Winchester always had everything under control, right? Right.

»Maybe we should elaborate on that, Dean.« Dr. Whitman hummed. »You say you practically raised your little brother. Lead me through it.«

»What do you mean?«

»I mean … Why don't you tell me how that was. How did it start, for example? And why did you feel the need to take over that role instead of just being Sam’s older brother? You are only four years older, after all.« As if he needed a reminder of that.

»You wanna say just because I'm only four years older than him that I'm not supposed to care for him?« He chose his question to sound biting just to show the doctor the line that he better should not cross. A part of him, however, was, of course, aware that Dr. Whitman would do exactly that sooner or later.

»Oh no, not at all. This dynamic between siblings can be seen quite often, actually. However, the older sibling who takes over a sort of parental role in their younger siblings life tends to be quite a bit older than their younger counterpart. For example, it's quite common that older siblings start to take over this role when they themselves are at an age when their parents begin putting more onto them too. Let's say there are three siblings, the oldest being only ten, the next younger four years old and the youngest, like your brother back then, is an infant. It would be more likely for the oldest sibling to take over that parental role for the youngest one then for the middle child or for the middle child to take on that role for the youngest.«

»Yeah … I get that.« It wasn't like he was stupid. This was common sense, after all. »Well, it's not like I would have had a choice there, right?« He then smirked. »It's not like I chose for things to turn out this way either.« Dr. Whitman leaned back in his chair for the first time since their conversation started, but he never left his notepad which he now leaned casually against his crossed legs. »Hell, if I had a say in all of this, I would have asked for a normal childhood too, you know? No vampires, no monsters, no demons, no ghosts, no taking care of my little brother as if I was the adult in this family. However, everyone seems to be determined in painting me that exact way. As if I chose all of this. Bullshit. I mean, hell, one moment I was just a normal happy four year old and then I wake up and our house burns, my mom is dead and I have Sammy in my arms and stand outside on the street. I didn't choose this life, neither did my dad, neither did Sammy, however, we made the best out of the hand we have been dealt I believe. And well, I think Sam turned out quite okay, right? Sure, he’s a little stiff sometimes and an utter nerd, but well, that's not that big of a problem, right?«

Right, he told himself. Sammy had turned out awesome if anyone would ever make the grand mistake in asking Dean Winchester, the overly-protective, overly-proud older brother of Sam. Then again, he would not dare giving himself credit for what became of Sam. No, this was as much the result of Sam’s hard work then it was of Dean’s eagerness to give his brother a somewhat normal life at least.

»You did a good job, I agree.« Dr. Whitman smiled. »Your brother, as much as I can deduct after my meeting with the both of you, seems to be a very sharp-minded and compassionate young man. He cares very much about his older brother, that much is indeed very certain. It strikes me as odd, though, that he claims that he has never seen any monster, after you told me that you and your father lived hunting these creatures almost from the day your mother died onwards.«

Dean didn't answer right away. He paused just a moment to think about it. »Well, Dad wanted to include Sam as he turned nine.« He finally opened up to Dr. Whitman but still was careful with his words. »I was a lot younger when I started, but I told my father that he should wait. And I kept telling him that he should wait. I didn't want my brother to fear the things that were hiding in the night, you know? Let him be a normal child until he needs to be a man.«

»That was very considerate and very kind of you.«

»My father thought I would spoil him.« Dean scoffed. »Maybe he was right. Maybe I should have just have him experience all of this at a much younger age. I would probably not sit here then.« He ended with a little laugh and brushed a hand through his hair.

»Your brother wanted to help you.«

»Yes, I know.«

»And he was of the opinion, as was I, that you were suffering a quite serious mental breakdown, which is understandable so shortly after your father’s death with whom you spent not only all your life growing up, but seemingly worked together as a close team, right? Not having him present in your life so suddenly, must have been a shock.« It was. Dean had to admit that Dr. Whitman was right. Losing his father, the man he had looked up to all his life, had been  shock, had been devastating to Dean.

»So, I noticed Castiel wasn't there this morning - in the dining room, I mean.« Dean changed the topic as he got up from his chair again and he was aware that he had not done so very elegantly. _Who cares_. The doc already thought that Dean was crazy anyway, right? Why not act the part? He would not tell him that he was right with his assumption about Dean and his relationship to his father.

»Ah, yes, _Castiel._  I heard that you already had lunch with him yesterday. Well, I told you he was an interesting character, didn't I?« Dean almost snorted at this comment as he strolled back to the bookshelf to grab that cooking book again. He used to cook a lot for Sammy whenever their dad had left them with enough food or money - preferably both.

»So where was he this morning? Couldn't find him before I came here.« Dean asked as nonchalantly as possible as he opened the book to start browsing through it as soon as he leaned his back against the shelf for it would be impolite to turn his back to the doc. »I mean, wow, I've seen a lot of things in my career, but an Angel - That's something new.«

The doctor actually chuckled at his choice of words there, but he grew serious right away again as he answered Dean calmly. »It seems that Castiel had an incident last night.«

»An incident? Did he wet his bed or what?« Raising his eyebrows he stared at Dr. Whitman over the book in his hands.

»I'm afraid I cannot give you information about my other patients.«

»Come on, Doc. I will find out anyway. If you don't tell me, he’ll tell me as soon as I get the chance to ask him later.« He wasn't sure if he really wanted to know what had happened last night. The sleeping pills had knocked him out cold and so he hadn't heard anything that might have happened. As Dean kept staring at Dr. Whitman, he could see how the doctor thought about answering him a moment, before he seemed to decide on doing so.

»Well, Castiel - _Jimmy_ , actually - attacked one of the nurses last night. He will stay inside the isolation cell for the next twenty-four hours.« That had Dean look up from this meatloaf recipe he had been studying for the last couple of seconds and blink in surprise once again. Castiel had attacked a nurse? This friendly little guy had done that? It was almost impossible to believe. Yet, the doctor seemed serious about it and why would he lie?

»So isolation cell, huh? Is that the good old patted cell we’re talking about here?«

»I think we can call it that, yes.«

»Where is that cell? I mean … I don't believe you showed me on my little tour.«

»We don't like our patients to fear that cell, that's why we usually don't even mention it. Most patients on this floor will never see it from the inside anyway.« Well, wasn't that just a big stinking pile of bullshit right there?

»Well, I'm the type of guy who always likes to know every possible outcome of his behavior, you know? Like, I might end up in that cell when I misbehave. I’d like to see things before I go there, so to say.« He tried again with a little grin. It wasn’t so much that he wanted to see where Castiel was being held, although that was a reason too, but more that he wanted to check out if there would be any way of escape where Castiel was.

»Of course, the access to that area is highly restricted. Only the nurses and doctors have access to that part of the floor.«

»But it's on this floor right here?«

»Every unit has it's own isolation area, so yes, it's on this floor.«

»Huh.« Good to know. So the padded cells were indeed on this floor. And, yes, he was pretty certain that there was more than just one padded cell and that patients of this unit went there regularly. At least if he was right and if the number of the floor they were on was an indicator of the level of mental illness the patients on this floor had reached.  

»Dean, maybe we should come back to the topic of your father, what do you think?« Dr. Whitman tried again, but Dean swiftly motioned to the clock above the door.

»I’m afraid we are almost out of time, Doc. Maybe we should save that for another day?« He grinned at the surprise he was faced with from the good doctor before he shut the book in his hand and put it back on the shelf.

Judging by his surprise, Dean figured that it was not too often the case that patients would end their conversation with the doctor. Though that was hardly a surprise. Most of the other patients seemed quite needy for the attention of their doctor and as Dean opened the door there already stood the next patient waiting eagerly to talk to Dr. Whitman.

Would he become like them if he would stay too long in this place? He needed to get out. Fast.

As Dean walked back into the common room, there was, of course, still no Castiel, which was not that surprising now that he knew where his new angelic friend was. Thinking about it, as he was sitting down in one of the many cushioned armchairs strewn all over the place, he could still not believe that Castiel could have hurt anyone - attacked anyone. Hell … He didn't even know the guy. He had talked only shortly to him yesterday and not even seen him during dinner. What did he even know about that guy, except that he thought he was an angel? For fuck’s sake, he should focus on getting out of here instead of wondering about that stranger. He was probably just one of the many crazy people in here and not at all different from the man who was brushing the hair of that creepy looking doll in the corner. And angels … Like hell angels existed.

Sammy would probably say something like »Well, Dean, you believe in monsters and demons - why shouldn't there be angels?« - and he would be right asking that very uncomfortable question that Dean heard a lot clearer in his mind than he was happy to admit in Sam’s most annoying voice ever from when he had been fourteen and going through puberty vocal change. Of course, if there were demons, why shouldn't there be angels. It was the logical question to ask and the logical thing to assume that there were indeed angels if there were demons. However, only people who had not seen what Dean had seen, who had not lived through what Dean had lived through, would think and ask these things. After growing up the way he had, seeing what he had seen, all the anger, the pain, the suffering, and evil … No. No, there could not possibly be a God and angels because if there was then where the fuck had this asshole been the entire time?

Had he perhaps not noticed what kind of shitshow this planet had become in the meantime between the burning bush incident and today?

As the day progressed, Dean found that, had he yesterday thought this might be a nice change for him for a while to deal with his life and get better at least, today his lively nature came through with all it's might and made it impossible for him to occupy himself with anything. He was restless half of the day, even while reading. Another thing he learned was that, when you have found a place on one of the more comfortable armchairs, you don't give it up for anything.

After lunch, Dean had enough of sitting around uselessly and trying to read a copy of Lemony Snicket's _A Series of Unfortunate Events_. Instead, he decided that he would roam the hallways and try to get a better outline of this floor and of possible escape routes. Unfortunately, there was not much to discover in that department. The only more interesting thing he noticed was the door that was almost religiously guarded during the daytime by one of the few security guards that Dean had seen by now. He knew that there were at least two guards present at all times during the day on the entire floor. That might not be much but they were only thirty patients on this very floor. He came to the conclusion that this door had to lead to the isolation cells - the padded cells as they were commonly called among the common folk - among normal people. After all, it was the only door that was guarded like this and since Dean had come through the door that led into this floor from the stairwell, he knew that this was not the door to the stairwell either.

Then again, nothing seemed normal in this place and there was nothing that should be less surprising to him. Dean spend a lot of time just watching the nurses and the security guards to make out the patterns in which they worked and moved around. Of course, he had seen these patterns yesterday already and yet today he was actively trying to focus on these details of his new life and his new surroundings. He found out that one of the security guards, Henry, had problems with his wife Amanda. Something about an addiction for teleshopping products he wouldn't elaborate on any further as he was talking to one of the nurses, who was, apparently, a friend of his. Dean was even witness to who was responsible for mopping the floors so shiny clean every day for the first time as he leaned against a wall close to the nurses desk and watched the man in charge of the cleaning utensils walk past the nurses desk with his cleaning trolley, whistling a little tune before he pulled a random candy bar out of the pocket of his uniform shirt to throw it at one of the nurses who caught it and thanked the strange man with the reddish brown hair.

Well, nothing weird there, right?

He saw the janitor later the day again as he was still bored out of his mind and trying to find a way to occupy himself. »You seem a little bored there, tall fella.« The man chimed as he walked down the hallway with a mop but without his trolley this time. »If you have a thing for music, there is a guitar in the drawing room.«  

»Do I look like someone who can play guitar?« Dean immediately shot back a little more snarky than he had intended to.

»You look like someone who can figure it out quick enough to get that bored frown off his face. And if not for yourself, maybe you can brighten the day of someone else with playing.« Was this a wink the janitor threw at him as if he was hitting on him? Well, wouldn't be the first time for sure.

»So, you know how the things work around here, right?« Dean grinned and didn't even try not to act suspiciously. Hell, this guy probably knew what he wanted to do anyway and if he would act any other way, it would insult his intelligence and probably make him not want to help Dean. Not that he needed help.

»I better should know it, I am paid for knowing this place like the back of my hand.« The janitor smirked as he produced another candy bar out of his pocket and ripped open its wrapper to bite off a large chunk of it immediately with a more than satisfied shit-eating grin. Where the hell did those even come from?

»So … That door the scary big guy guards … What's behind it? The secret scary lab where the doc does his secret scary experiments on his patients?«

»I like you!« The janitor laughed. »No that's where the lost causes go. Some only for a day or two, some never get out. The padded cells, the bottom of the loony bin. You should try avoiding getting in there, messes with your brain. No people, no sounds, just you spending time with yourself in a white room with nothing to do.«

»So no route to freedom either this way?«

»I'm afraid not, big guy. There is no escape but the door you came through on your first day. And a jump from the window I would not advise to either. We’re up pretty high here. I mean you would probably survive the fall, but you would not get very far with a broken leg. At least not from this floor. Maybe you would have more luck on the second floor - That is, of course, if you would manage to pry open one of the windows in the stairwell.«

»So why is the door to the padded cells guarded anyway all the time?« The janitor didn't even seem to care that he was helping Dean concoct a plan of escape as they were talking. Or maybe he was enjoying it even.

»Oh, it's not all the time, Buddy. Only during the daytime - Only while you Looney Toons are walking around doing stupid things. At night time no one guards those doors. I mean why should they anyway? The poor fellas inside can't get out of their cells anyway and without the keys, no one can open the cell doors either. Hell, the door isn't even locked at night! Except for the staff, no one walks these halls at night and goes to check on them back there.« The janitor sighed. »Poor things, really. Sometimes I manage to pass them candy when I’m mopping the floor and no one looks. Most of them don't even realize I’m there. Most of them live in their own head after a while. It's not an easy sight to behold at times.« He clapped his hands as if to snap himself out of it. »So, Buddy, as I said, try not to get your ass put in there if you want to keep your sanity - or what's left of it anyway. See ya around.«

Dean found the old acoustic guitar that the janitor had mentioned a little while later in the drawing room. He had not that much experience with playing the guitar, but he had learned it once during his time at Sonny’s. Robin … Yes … She had been a good teacher in many things, but especially when it came to the guitar. He even could play one or two songs of Metallica and Kansas. The guitar was horribly off-tune and so Dean spent a lot of time just trying to get it back in-tune in the common room. Of course, there were a few of the other patients gathering around him and just watching him with big eyes. Dean didn't pay them too much attention. Most of them were harmless anyway and maybe he even pitied them. He would play for them as soon as the guitar would be in-tune again. As long as he would be locked in this hell hole, he might as well do something nice for the other poor souls that were trapped in this place with him.

The day progressed with not much else to do. Another group therapy session, another meal with the other patients but everything else was just the same. Pills, food, health checks. The only thing that did in fact change was Dean and what he knew. He knew, for example, that he would not spend the night inside his room and just sleep. He craved adventure and he wanted to have a look at the floor with the padded cells. To his lucks, his father had taught him a lot more than just hunting monsters and how to eliminate those things that went bump in the night. Part of his training had included lockpicking, pickpocketing, and a lot of other things. So, as the lights were turned off and the night settled in, Dean got up from his bed once again. He was tired, yes, but he shook his tiredness off the as much as he could and dared a look out of the window to the floor. Around midnight the nurses retreated to their break room and only left the room when they noticed something out of the ordinary on the cameras or for their control rounds once an hour.

For Dean, it was easy to escape his cell, after he had stolen one of the skeleton keys from one of the nurses. The man had either not noticed that the key was missing or he had been too scared of the repercussions if he would tell anyone that it was missing. Dean couldn't care less. He had studied the camera locations and knew what to do so he wouldn't be found by them.

Dean was completely silent as he crept down the hallway, avoiding the cameras on his way down. Sneaking past the nurse's office and their break room which was located in the center of this floor was easy for the nurse that was currently present at the desk was engulfed in reading some magazine. Dean snuck into the common room with not much of a problem only to grab the acoustic guitar from where he had left it and before the nurse could even lift his gaze, he was gone again and already further down the hall.

He found the door to the padded cells unlocked, just like the janitor had told him previously. After one look over his shoulder to make sure that he was still undetected, Dean snuck into the corridor with the padded cells. The nurse at the desk seemed not to pay much attention to the cameras anyway, he was too occupied with reading, so Dean gathered he had a little time until someone would notice him on the camera feed. There was only one on this floor, as he had previously suspected. It was placed right above the door and shot down the narrow hallway. On each side of him were doors leading to the padded cells. Four on each side with only a small window in each door so that the nurses could make sure their patients were alright in there. Dean hurried to find the right cell for he didn't want to leave without having gained anything.

Hell, what even was his gain from this? Nothing really. He didn't even quite know what prompted him to do this except cheering up that weird dude a little. He didn't even know him! Yet, he was here looking for his cell and he found it quick enough too. His life did not make sense at all under normal circumstances and all the more now that he was in this place, as it seemed. But now that he was here and officially declared crazy, he might as well act like it from time to time.

Castiel’s cell was, in fact, the only cell that was occupied at the moment, which made this all a lot easier. He could see him sit on the bed, motionless, confined in a straight jacket. That poor guy. Dean didn't even know if Castiel could hear him or if he was even able to understand anything. He was staring blankly ahead as Dean could tell from the light coming from behind him on the floor falling through the little window. He was probably filled to the brim with all kinds of drugs. This, to him, was only one more reason to not believe in a God or angels because if Castiel was indeed an angel, then where was God now? Where was his father preventing one of his angels to fall into such a desperate situation?

»Hey, Cas!« Dean shout-whispered through the door but there was no reaction at first so he decided to try a knock on his side of the door to get Castiel’s attention. »Castiel! Hey, Dude, you hear me?« Only now Castiel moved his head almost in slow motion to look at the door, his blue eyes huge like billiard balls. Other than this there was no reaction or sign that Castiel understood why he was here. Hell, of course, he could let that dude out with the skeleton key he had stolen, but that would be not so very smart, he figured. Instead, he lifted the guitar in hopes that Castiel might recognize the instrument. »Come closer to the door, Dude!« Indeed, Castiel got up from the bed and waddled close to the door at this. »Hey ... I haven't played in years so don't expect too much of me, right?« He grinned sheepishly and threw a small glance at the camera. Until now it seemed no one had noticed what was happening, so he sat down in front of Castiel’s door and leaned his back against the metal door, placing the guitar on his legs after he had straightened them out in front of him.

The guitar was still not as good tuned as it should be, but for now, it had to suffice and he figured that Castiel probably did not expect too much anyway. He probably didn't even know a thing about music if he really was an angel.

As he started to pluck the strings of the old guitar, he cast another glance to the camera and the door he had come through. He paused, as he thought he had heard steps but continued right after he had determined that he had just imagined things. First, he hadn't been sure what kind of song he wanted to play for Castiel, but the answer was right there, so he started to play one of his favorite songs and didn't even know if Castiel knew _Carry on Wayward Son_. Well, he would know it now, he guessed as he started to sing the first few lines.

Needless to say, he was not a very good singer, but surely, Castiel wouldn't mind. And yes, the fact that he was pretty much serenading another dude did not escape him. Then again, he was in a loony bin - Or in other words: _Who cares_?

A part of him felt as if the song would befit Castiel somehow. Maybe he was not even doing this for Castiel, he thought to himself as he kept going as quietly as he could and just loud enough that Castiel could hear him, imagining that the angel was sitting with his back leaned against the other side of that door, just inches apart from Dean. This was for himself too and deep down, Dean knew this. Just as well as he knew that it was just a matter of time now until the nurses would come here and bring him back to his cell. Oh hell, the doc would not be happy at all tomorrow but Dean didn't care. He didn't even care if Castiel listened to him or what he was doing inside his cell now. » _Masquerading as a man with a reason, my charade is the event of the season. And if I claim to be a wise man, it surely means that I don’t know«_ This line right here, that was the reason why he loved this song so much and why he could never resist singing along when it was played on the radio or his numerous mixtapes.

Sam would probably frown about them and ask him if he was stuck in the stone-ages for still using cassette tapes. However, Dean was a child of the seventies and eighties.

He could already hear the loud footsteps hurrying down the hallway outside as he closed his eyes and just kept on playing for Castiel. » _Now your life’s no longer empty - Surely Heaven waits for you…_ « He couldn't even finish the song before the door to this hallways was ripped open and he was confronted with two nurses at once. Dean did his best to not even give them any attention and just _carry on_ with the song a little louder now too as if nothing out of the ordinary was going on. Only as they approached him he was forced to look at them at least while keeping plucking the strings.

»What do you think you’re doing here, Dean?« One of the nurses, Paul, asked with a sigh before he bent down to grab the guitar and pull it from his hands. The other nurse, Tom, grabbed Dean by the forearms to pull him to his feet. He did not meet much resistance from Dean.

»Party’s over now. Come on, we’re going back to your room, yes? We don't want this to become ugly, right?« Dean just grinned as he got back to his feet and pried his arms from Tom's tight grip before he bowed like a rock star who had just finished a show.

»Thank you, Ladies and Gentleman, I’ll be here all week.« He chuckled before he turned one last look at Castiel’s door. He wanted to say something to him but in the end, he just followed Paul outside to be escorted back to his room in peace.

****

**-End of Chapter 5-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3


	6. Chapter 6

The way Dr. Whitman looked at him was almost priceless as Dean lounged on the chair on the other side of the table comfortably with one foot up on the leather seat. He didn't really seem to mind that Dean had one foot up on the seat at all, though, telling Dean that he was probably not the only one doing something like that. His father would have slam-dunked his head on the table had Dean ever sit like this in a chair like this. The grey-haired doctor leaned back in his own chair, his hands folded to a pyramid and tucked under his chin, appearing lost in deep thoughts about something while protruding a certain sense of serene calmness like an air freshener for the car.

»So« The doctor said after a while of this while the clock behind Dean was ticking the time away that they got left. »I've heard about the thing you did last night. You are probably aware that you went against the rules as you not only stole a key from one of the nurses but also left your room after lockdown - which is in no way acceptable and will be punished. However, I have to admit, what you did for Jimmy, was very sweet.« His face softened a little at the end of his statement there.

»Just wanted to cheer him up a little.« Dean smirked.

»And that you did, apparently. When I talked to Jimmy this morning, he was a lot better than he was as he was put in the isolation cell. One of the nurses told me Jimmy kept singing _Carry on Wayward Son_ the rest of the night, driving _them_ crazy for a change. You made quite the impression, Dean.« He didn't even know what to think or feel about this remark. He felt like there was an underlying message lurking beneath the surface, but it was almost impossible to grasp.

»Yeah, I've got that reputation.« He laughed dryly. »Though mostly the impression isn't a very good one, I suppose.« Even the women he would sleep with on his way through the country would later regret ever having fallen for his charm in the first place. He could be charming, yes, but it was hard for him to keep it up and as soon as his mask would start to crack, most people would be running in the opposite direction.

»Well, in Jimmy's case it was a good one for sure. You see, he hardly ever talks to anyone here and after months of us talking he still hasn't opened up about what's going on inside of his head, neither to me nor to anyone else in this facility. However, you managed to get to him already and that in such a short span of time, it's remarkable and it gives me hope not only for your improvement and healing process but for Jimmy’s as well.« He was sure that the doctor’s words were meant as a compliment, maybe even as something uplifting, but somehow Dean couldn't help but feel like he was being tested here.

»So what you're saying, Doc?«

»I’m saying that I think you two might be a good team in this.« Dr. Whitman replied with a fond smile playing on his ridiculously white cheeks. »You might help each other getting better. I very much approve of that relationship you're building with Jimmy, Dean.«

»Whoa, hey there Doc, I'm not building any kind of relationship with Cas! I mean - Hey I don't know much about that weird little guy anyway, but I'm not that kind of guy - if you know what I mean. I just felt sorry for him. He seemed to be a very peaceful guy and I couldn't really believe that he of all people had attacked anyone. So I wanted to help. No big deal.«

»You are a very caring guy, Dean.« The doctor hummed. »I can see that and while seeing that, it makes it a lot easier and more understandable as to why you raised your brother instead of your father.«

»I didn't raise Sammy _instead_ of my dad. Dad was there too, he did his best, Doc. Sam just can't see that. He and Dad never got along.« Until his dying day, he would never go a day without defending his father, as it seemed to him now. He knew that Dr. Whitman and Sam were right and that he had done the bulk of the parenting of his brother, but he would never say it even now that his father was dead.

»Where did that leave you, Dean?«

»Me? I was the buffer between them, I guess. Always the punching bag for those two on which they could vent out their anger about each other.« He smirked again.

»Literally or figuratively?«

He sighed. »Look, Doc. I _know_ my brother told you a few things and I'm aware that you're probably thinking my dad abused me or some shit like that, but Dad never abused me. I will not deny that I got a slap in the face one or two times growing up after acting stupid or doing something incredibly dangerous, but that was not _abuse_. It was discipline and it did not harm me, it made me stronger, made me better, made me consider the things I wanted to do before I did them. My father loved me and Sam, but Sam could just never see it. Mainly because my father was never good in showing his love for us. And yeah, he was a broken man ever since my mother died. Hell, if anyone knew that it was me and our Uncle Bobby, of course.«

There was no response first, only a short moment of silence and Dean was pretty sure that Dr. Whitman was thinking about asking further about Dean’s father, instead, he changed the direction for now. »So, you have more family than only your brother left? That's good. Tell me about this uncle of yours.«

»Well…« Suddenly Dean realized that he had said _Uncle_ Bobby like the child he used to be. He had not called Bobby his uncle ever since he had hit puberty but now it had just come out like this, without thinking about it at all. »He's not really my uncle, actually. He's a friend of the family, a fellow hunter, but he's as close as family. He helped raising me and Sammy whenever our dad had to leave us somewhere for a longer period of time, you see?«

»And you are close with that man?« The question was not as lurking as Dean thought it sounded in the first moment, but it still had an uncomfortable taste to it.

»Very, yes.« He replied quietly and got a little more comfortable on the chair he was occupying. »I mean, we stayed a lot at his place during our childhood and he was the one who actually taught me about how to repair a car, for example.«

»Did you go to him for help after your father's death?«

»No.«

»Why not?«

»I don't know. He helped me deal with the funeral but after that I just thought … I thought I could handle it myself so I started looking for that demon on my own. I got into a lot of fights along the way, barely even made it to Stanford alive after I realized that I needed someone to fight this fight with me. Maybe I just didn't want to tell him because I didn't want anyone to look at me all sad and compassionate or treating me like some hurt little child. I thought I could deal with Dad’s death on my own.«

»And now you're here.« _Because you couldn't deal with your father’s death on your own._ That was what Dr. Whitman did not say in this moment and yet, Dean’s first instinct was to defend himself.

»Yeah, but not because I couldn't handle Dad’s death but because my sweet perfect little brother thinks I'm batshit crazy.«

»Your brother does not believe you are crazy.«

»He doesn't? Well he clearly has a weird way of showing that then.«

»No, your brother thinks that you are a very troubled young man, that your father has pulled you into his fantasies and his fanaticism when it comes to hunting these things you believe are roaming the planet.« Was Dr. Whitman really defending Sam for putting his own brother into the loony bin now? Well, that was probably a part of his job. Hell, they were all just so caring, right? Everyone just wanted to do what was best for Dean but no one ever just asked him. »He thinks that your father put too much on your shoulders and made you follow his orders blindly and now that he is gone, you are crumbling because you don't know what to do any longer. He thinks that you can't handle this new found freedom.«

» _Freedom_? He thinks I feel free now that my dad is gone?« He scoffed. »Well, only because he feels like that, it doesn't mean I feel like that too. I don't feel free now.«

»Tell me about it.«

»I don't want to tell you about it.«

Outside the sky was grey and thick drops of rain were punching against the windows of the common room as Dean sat in one of the comfortable armchairs with a book in his lap that he had not even yet opened. The guitar was leaning against the bookshelf for now after the nurses had taken it from him last night and apparently not bothered putting it back into the drawing room. There was a storm coming and it would hit the institution pretty hard. He could feel it vibrating in his bones as his conversation with Dr. Whitman remained deeply ingrained in his brain.

»What are you reading?« He recognized the gruff voice of Castiel right away. He sounded like a chain-smoker. Of course, he turned his head to look at the angel over the backrest of the chair. In the white uniforms, they all looked like shit, as Dean had already noticed about himself, but Castiel still rocked the white-shirt-white-pants combination. Even the light blue slippers looked good on him. What a weird man. It was the first time that Castiel was instigating a conversation - then again, they only had one real conversation before, which made all of this only just so much more weird.

Dean lifted the book from his lap to show it to Castiel and sure enough, the angel read the title out loud. » _A Series of Unfortunate Events_ by Lemony Snicket? That does not sound like a very happy book, I must say.«

»It's actually a series of books. I read them to my brother when we were small and no, it's not a very happy book. It's actually kind of depressing..« He smirked. »Maybe you should try it.«

»Why would I read something that is depressing?« Castiel’s look was so incredulous it was almost cute, not that he would ever say this about another man. Castiel took the book from his hands carefully, before he sat down on the armchair that was the closest to Dean’s. »There's a storm coming.« Castiel then nodded to the windows. »The other patients are going to be upset.«

»Yeah, well, maybe we should use that to our advantage.« Dean scoffed as he followed Castiel’s nod to the windows.

»What do you mean?«

»I mean leaving this place.« He wasn’t even trying to be silent or quiet about this for now. As long as he did not have a proper plan of action, he felt that there was no need to be secretive anyway.

»We can't just leave this place.« Castiel seemed to look at this a little more differently as he all but whispered now.

»Sure we can, we just have to figure out a way to do that, Cassie.«

»And why would you take me along when you are trying to escape?«

»Because it can't hurt to have an angel close by I guess.« Castiel actually smiled as a reaction to his words and somehow that made him even a little glad. Oh hell, yes, he was crazy. This place was doing something to him he couldn't explain. Maybe there was something in this building, like a ghost perhaps. Something that made him crazy, something that darkened his mind and make him think crazy stuff like this. But yes, Dean was aware that they weren't able to just leave this place. For that, they first needed to find a way out and that had already proven to be difficult. Well, he wouldn't be Dean Winchester would he not find a way out of this situation.

»I wanted to thank you for what you did last night.« Castiel broke the silence again as his fingers were tracing the letters of the book’s slightly elevated title on the cover. »I was lost somewhere, my mind was … gone, but what you did was very nice and it helped me find my way back.«

»No big deal.« Dean scoffed. »I couldn't sleep and I was bored anyway.«

»Still, it was very nice of you to go against the rules like this and risk being punished.« Castiel had a weird way to look at other people, that, Dean had already noticed. The way he looked at someone was so utterly intense that it would usually creep him out, however as their eyes met now, he did feel nothing like that, only curiosity and the still lingering feeling that he knew this man somehow. »Why are you in here, Dean?« Castiel quietly asked as he moved his eyes from the cover of the book back to Dean.

»I'm here because I tried to kill a demon.«

»Oh.« Castiel sighed but did not seem very surprised to hear something like that out of the mouth of an actual human being. »I take it that this didn't go over well. Why were you after the demon?«

»He killed my mom and my dad.« Dean explained calmly. »I followed him to Stanford … or not _him_ , but _a_ demon. I thought that this demon might help me get to the one I was looking for and I was worried that he might pose a danger to my brother who studies at Stanford. So, I went there, tried to get my brother to help me out, was rejected and faced the demon alone.«

»Your brother send you here?«

»Yupp. Nice of him, huh?«

»He probably just wanted the best for you … I mean … Your brother probably loves you very much and wanted to help you.«

»My brother thinks I'm crazy. He doesn't believe in monsters.«

»Well, I guess … Monsters, demons … all these things, that is probably very hard to believe.«

»Maybe, but he grew up with the knowledge of these things, Cas. It's not like it's all new to him, right? He would have become a hunter just like me and my dad.« Yes, that was exactly the problem, right? His brother would have become a hunter just like them and then he wouldn't be in Stanford to study law and Dean would not be in this facility to get his mind straightened out. The only worse thing in being in a mental asylum was to be the only one here with a sound mind. He could recognize the ridiculousness of his surrounding and he could recognize how crazy his life sounded to other people and yet he could also recognize that he was not the crazy person here.

»And why didn't he become a hunter?« Castiel asked and raised his brows in confusion-

»Who knows? Maybe I was too soft on him?« He noticed the quizzical look that Castiel shot him and the way he furrowed his brows doing so. »I took care of him, most of the time. You know … Whenever our father was on a hunt for a long time - someone had to take care of Sammy, so I filled that role. I'm his big brother, that's  my job, right? It had always been my only job to  just take care of Sammy and make sure he’s alright. And I … maybe I tried too much to shield Sam from all of this, to keep him away from these things and have him grow up without that much ballast. I wanted that Sam would have a normal life and now that he actually has that, I feel terrible and betrayed and I know that this is stupid.«

»It's not that stupid.« Castiel replied and the way he looked at him was compassionate and calm like he understood all of this on a much deeper level. »You are his brother and you love him, it's only understandable that you wanted him to stay in your life. Although I have to admit that most human emotions are an enigma to me that I do not yet fully understand. For example: You say you wanted your brother to have a normal life away from monster hunting and all that comes with this job, but why do you feel betrayed now that your brother has exactly that? It does not make sense.«

»Yeah, that's the point.« Dean smirked. »It doesn't make any sense, that's the problem. I wished it would be different. Sometimes, human emotions just don't make any sense, Cas.« Silence fell upon them while around them the world was a whirlwind of madness with screaming and crying patients and those who just sat in the corner and mumbled to themselves. Still, in this ocean of insanity, both of their chairs combined were an island of serene calmness and understanding and nothing had ever been more weird in Dean’s life. »So, what's _your_ story?« It seemed like an eternity that had passed before Dean broke the silence between them with his question.

»I'm afraid I do not understand what you mean.« Dean didn't even doubt that for a second now.

»I mean, you told me how you got here, but you didn't tell me how it came to all of this.« Castiel’s gaze remained quizzical. »I mean, what happened before you were brought here by whoever caught you and brought you here?« Of course, it would be in the realm of possibilities, that Castiel had admitted himself, but who in their right mind would do something like this. Well, maybe that was not the wisest choice of words in this regard, but still. Who would turn themselves in? Not even a crazy person would be crazy enough to do something like this, right?

As Castiel turned his eyes away and looked out of the window again, Dean could see that something was bothering the man, that there was something gnawing on his mind perhaps even. Was he maybe not comfortable talking about what happened? As this thought hit him, Dean would have liked to beat himself in the head for being so blunt and inconsiderate. He didn't know Castiel. He didn't know what his story was. He didn't know what this man might have experienced that lead him to this point as to where he believed that he was actually an angel. He didn't know the trauma he might have endured in his past and he felt incredibly stupid not thinking about it that way. »I don't know.« He finally replied with a sigh. »I remember coming down to earth, claiming Jimmy as my vessel after he agreed to take on that role and honor.«

»Your vessel?«

»Jimmy. Jimmy Novak. Well, I needed a body, right? A human body.« Castiel pointed in an elaborate gesture at his own body and repeated »Jimmy« once more. That was, of course, the name that everyone here used to refer to Castiel too and it was the name that was on the name tag of the cabinet in the dining room that never got emptied during the meal times. »My true form can be overwhelming for humans, as is my real voice. To walk amongst you, I needed a human body to do my work. Jimmy was a God-fearing man, you see? His body is strong enough to hold me even. As I started contacting him he was quick to agree to my offer, yes, he was happy to be of help to God as my vessel. I woke up in Jimmy’s body on a field.«

»So in other words, you possessed that poor idiot?« Dean asked with slightly raised brows. He couldn't quite suppress his initial gut instinct that told him he should be abhorred by this concept. If that was all true, then angels were hardly any better than demons. »And what then?«

»No, it's not like that, Dean.« Castiel was quick to clarify with squinted eyes as he seemed to understand what Dean really meant with this question of his. »Angels can't just possess someone. We have to be invited in. And Jimmy did after I told him that God needed his help. However, I don't remember what happened next. The next thing I know I was here, without my powers and Jimmy … Jimmy was gone.«

»What do you mean gone?«

»Well, you see, when we claim a vessel, we share the body with its original inhabitant. A human soul can occupy a body forever as long as that body stays intact. As I first woke up, I could feel Jimmy’s presence quite clearly, but when I got here, there was nothing of him left inside this body. I can't tell you what happened but it had to be awful for his soul to just vanish like this.« Castiel paused again and as he looked away once more, Dean could clearly see that his expression had shifted from being concerned to thoughtful again. Though he didn't know much about Castiel, he doubted that this man, this angel, was completely fine with taking a human body and killing its original host. Crap … All of this sounded too fantastic to be true, even by his standards! Angels! Really?

»Did you … I mean … Did he, Jimmy, have a family?« Why was he prodding further? Castiel clearly was uncomfortable thinking about Jimmy judging by the way he sat there, clenching the book in his fingers now.

»Yes.« Castiel sighed. »He had a wife and a daughter.«

»What's with them?«

»I don't know.« It was obvious that Castiel was not telling him everything he really knew now, but Dean wouldn't press on further either because if Castiel didn't want to tell him the truth then pressuring him would be nonsensical anyway. And hell, if anyone would understand when someone didn't want to talk about a certain topic or thing, it was Dean Winchester himself. Maybe it was better not to pressure him too much, he mused as they fell back into silence for a while. The next time the silence between them was broken was through Castiel himself, as the young man turned to look at him with his head just ever so slightly tilted and his intense blue eyes resting on Dean as if he was the only person in the room - the only person that mattered. He couldn't deny, being looked at like that did something even to someone like him.

»You are the first person who believes me.« Castiel said and there seemed not to be a question about that in his mind. No, Castiel was sure that Dean believed him and that brought Dean into a highly unique position all of the sudden because: Did he believe Castiel? Somehow, he had just accepted that crazy dude’s claim that he was an angel. Somehow he had just lapped up his explanations like the ones his dad had given to him about the monsters that were lurking in the shadows. Thinking about it that way, all of the sudden, made Dean realize how gullible that made him look like.

»Yeah, well, maybe your level of crazy matches mine?« He smirked and the look Cas shot him at that only made his heart sink a little. The angel actually looked confused for a second there, before he seemed to get it and smiled again.

They spent the rest of the day together, interrupted only by their various appointments through the day. Their therapy schedules were tight and as dinner came, Dean found that he had actually missed Castiel and that he was actually disappointed as he didn't find him in the dining room. A look at the food compartments told him that Castiel, _Jimmy Novak_ , hadn't yet collected his meal either. Then again, he never got his food. He didn't need to eat, that was at least what he had told Dean. For a moment, as he stared at Castiel’s food tray in the compartment box, he thought about taking it and trying to sneak out with both trays to go and find the angel, but as he looked towards the doors he found that the door was guarded by one of the nurses. They just wanted to make sure that no cutlery would be taken from this room to prevent possible suicides - then again, they only got to have plastic cutlery anyway. It was ridiculous, but probably not without good reason.

Dean was already about to turn away and just sit down to eat, as something at the door caught his eye. It was the janitor who poked his head in through the wide-open doors, caught a glimpse of Dean at the food compartments, winked, and started talking with the nurse before motioning to something over his shoulder. The moment Dean realized that the nurse would leave his post was the moment he made up his mind. Right as the nurse turned around, Dean stole Castiel’s meal from the box and as he watched how the janitor shortly led the nurse away from the door, Dean seized his chance and slipped out with both trays to hurry down the hallway. It was almost too easy, almost as if that janitor guy had known what he wanted to do and decided to help him. No, not even _he_ was crazy enough to really believe something as coincidental as this to be possible.

Maybe just once in his life, Dean had something akin to luck.

He knew where Castiel's room was after he knew his real name - or at least the name he had checked in under. He had had more than enough time to check the rooms, after all. To his luck, he even found Castiel right away sitting on his bed with a book in his hands and to his satisfaction he found that it was indeed _A Series of Unfortunate Events_. Dean just kicked at the door frame since he didn't have a free hand to knock and Castiel's eyes shot up from his book right away.

»I don't understand this, Dean. Why would the author of this book, this questionable Mr. Snicket, write down such a terrible story and constantly remind us of how awful all of this is when he clearly lacks the will or intention of helping those poor children?« Dean just smirked. Somehow it didn't quite surprise him that this poor guy didn't even recognize that Dean had gone against the rules again as he had taken their food from the dining room. Castiel was one of those very unique people who just said whatever was on their minds. He liked it. He liked it and yet he started to grow aware that Castiel probably did not have a verbal filter and that he would get himself in trouble if he would continue just saying whatever came to his mind. Poor thing needed someone to look out for him indeed.

»I got us food.« Dean replied instead of giving him a proper answer as he walked further into the room to sit down on Castiel’s bed. Castiel sat with his back against the headboard of his bed, his knees pulled up to his chest and his bare feet resting on the mattress, but as Dean placed his tray on the mattress between them to put his own tray on his legs to start eating, Castiel actually put the book away and took his tray to inspect it.

»I told you already that I don't need to eat.«

»Yeah you did, Sunshine, but we both know that those fucks out there who think we’re crazy are not going to understand that and then they’ll force feed you. You don't need to eat everything either, okay? Just eat a little and show your good will to them so that they will leave you alone.« His eyes caught the sight of the pictures Castiel had taped to the wall opposite of his bed. It were drawings of all kinds of things. Some looked like copied out of the Bible he had still resting on his bedside table, some of them looked like something straight from a nightmare, but most of them showed strange winged creatures. Angels, he assumed, though not exactly like those Dean knew from religious paintings. »You drew these?« Dean found himself asking as he pointed his stupid plastic knife in the direction of the drawings. As he looked at Cas again, he found the angel poking at his food before he nodded and started eating.

»You are an odd man, Dean.« Castiel suddenly decided to say between bites and made Dean almost choke on his food because of that monotone voice he used for such a declaration. He didn't even know if he should feel offended. Maybe, he thought, he should first let the angel explain. He could still be offended later.

»Please elaborate.« He coughed before shoving the next bite of lasagna into his mouth. Maybe not the best idea while talking to someone like Castiel. This was bound to end badly for Dean.

»Ever since I came to earth and started interacting with humans, I learned that most humans do not care very much about their fellow humans.« The way he talked about the human race was oddly endearing to Dean and he didn't even know why. Maybe because he reminded him so much of Spock. »Yet, here you are in such a grim place and you do actually care. That is quite odd to me. I feel that not even the good Doctor Whitman cares about his patients, although I honestly believe that he is a good man who had been very engaged in his work at one point in his life.«

Dean couldn't help but shrug his shoulders as he continued shoveling food into his mouth. He would definitely gain a few pounds in here. »Maybe it's just my default mode, you know? I always had to care about others. My dad … He didn't take care of himself after my mom’s death. He started drinking and got obsessed with the supernatural and he sometimes forgot to eat or drink or sleep properly for days. It was scary when I was little. So I started to care for him and the same with Sammy. I changed his diapers when my dad forgot it or was too drunk to do it. I fed him and bathed him and made sure he was okay. All I ever did was care for the people around me. So, I guess, now that I’m here, I can't switch that off, y’know?«

»You are truly a good and noble man, Dean Winchester.« Dean almost shuddered at the sincerity of Castiel’s words and the look in his eyes. His gut instinct was to say something stupid or deny Castiel’s claim altogether. He was neither good nor noble.

»I’m just another asshole roaming this earth, Cas. I mean, yeah, I do care for those around me and I like protecting others, but beyond this I’m just an ass and that's okay. No one is perfect and no one is purely good or evil in this world. That's just how we humans are.« He couldn't quite help but wink at Cas and notice that the angel had already devoured his food. There was a small smirk tugging on the right corner of his mouth as he noticed that Cas’ plate was completely empty. Well, maybe he had been hungry after all.

Bringing back the trays later was a lot more difficult as Dean realized walking down the corridor and tried not to be seen. However, it was once again the janitor coming to his rescue and this time, Dean was sure that there was something up with this guy. If only he could place his finger on what it was!

»That was awfully nice of you, bringing good old Jimmy there his dinner and eating with him.« The janitor chirped as Dean wanted to walk past the open broom closet on his way to the dining room. He had only seen his back as he had approached the closet but now he was almost certain that the janitor had actually waited for him by the open door that would block people further down the hallway to actually notice their exchange as the janitor was more or less leaning inside the closet. »Give me those trays, Buddy, I’ll take care of this. We wouldn't want to get punished again just for being a decent human being, right?« As the janitor looked over his right shoulder at a baffled Dean, he just winked.

There was one of the nurses approaching and so, Dean was quick to hand the janitor both trays which he quickly made disappear between his equipment on the trolley. »Why do you care?« Dean asked quietly in a hushed whisper as he decided it would be best to nonchalantly lean against the wall next to the broom closet the janitor was tidying up, apparently. His name tag only read G. Smith. »Why do you care if I’m nice to Castiel or not? I mean, we’re just a bunch of lunatics in here, right? I could be an ax murderer.«

»You don't have the face of an ax murderer - more like someone who would bash someone else's head in with a baseball bat.« He grinned as he produced a chocolate bar out of his trolley and handed it to Dean. »Share that with your new friend, would’ya?« Although he took the chocolate, Dean remained where he was.

»You didn't answer my question.«

»Of course I didn't. Would be boring if I would, right?« With that, the mysterious janitor pulled his trolley out of the broom closet now that he had tidied everything up and sorted out his equipment and closed the door to the broom closet only to lock it. »We wouldn't want anyone to go in there, grab some of the stuff and make a big escape, do we?« He smirked as he shoved his keys back into the right front pocket of his jumpsuit. »So, it was nice talking to you, Pal, but I do have work to do. Goodnight.«

With that, he just left Dean standing there in the hallway and walked off whistling a tune. As Dean caught the glance of Paul, the nurse who was walking down the hall, he quickly moved away from the wall and walked down the hall again and back to his own room. The chocolate he would share with Castiel tomorrow.

 

**-End of Chapter 6-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy first of December, have another chapter!

The young woman on TV was still pointing on the weather map on screen with huge gestures as she warned the viewers about the big storm that was coming, giving Dean the impression that the storm that had hit the country a few nights ago, was nothing more than a little foretaste of what was about to come. Already the other patients were getting nervous, as Dean noticed while looking around the room. »The building is going to get flooded, Dean.« One of the other men in the common room, Jake, told him as he was looking from the TV to Dean with large eyes. He sat on the couch in front of the TV next to Dean, his legs pulled to his chest, nibbling at his nails. His eyes were wide like those of a child, which was beyond creepy in the face of a fifty-something-year-old man with thin greying hair and stubbles around his jaw. »The building is gonna get flooded and we will all drown here. We need to do something, Dean. We could build an ark.«

»I don't know if building another ark would be that good of an idea.« Castiel’s monotone voice chimed in from Dean’s other side as he looked at Jake now with the most serious expression anyone could possibly muster in a situation like this. »I mean, as Noah did it, he had the explicit order from God to do that and not without reason either. I wouldn't even know where we should get the required wood from … Maybe we should settle on building a boat?«

»Don't encourage him, Dude.« Dean frowned as he leaned back and switched the channel. That was usually enough to get Jake distracted. And Castiel too. It had been a week since he had been committed to this place. A week already and by now, Dean started to feel the effect this place had on people. He started to feel worn out by the pills, the drills, the conversations with the doctors and the madness around him. The white hallways were starting to drive him insane. The only thing brightening his days was the guy sitting on his left-hand side, as ridiculous as this might sound. Castiel provided the distraction he needed so desperately in all of this.

Castiel blinked at him in confusion about his words, but as he then looked at Jake and the TV, Castiel shrugged and turned back to folding yet another of his weird paper cranes. Dean was almost tempted to let Cas teach him how to do that. Jake, on the other hand, was already back in his own little world again as he stared mindlessly at the TV. »You seem distracted, Dean.« Castiel murmured over his origami work and Dean was almost a little confused as he looked at his new angel friend again. »More distracted than usually. Are you still thinking about escaping this place?«

»Aren't you?«

»I wouldn't even know what to do next, to be honest. I mean, I know that there is something I am supposed to do, that I am supposed to remember. A mission to accomplish, but I can't remember it, so as long as I can't remember what I'm here for, what's the point in being out there?« Dean wasn’t sure if he could understand the reasoning behind those words, but as long as it seemed logical to Castiel … Well, what was he going to do about it?

»You could help me find that demon and kill it.«

»That is true, I could do that. I mean, with my help it should be easy, I would assume.«

»How good that you are not overly confident, right?« Again this remark only brought him a quizzical look from Castiel out of squinted blue eyes. Hell, he looked terrible. The dark circles under his eyes were only getting worse each day and he looked more and more haggard. It was almost as if Dean would see Castiel wasting away like a flower that no one was watering properly. He still wasn't really eating and every time he did eat, it was just because Dean practically forced  him to. And yet, despite the fact that his body was obviously weak by the lack of food and sleep, Castiel insisted upon not needing food or sleep since he was an angel. That little guy was incredibly stubborn. »Cas, really, you look like shit.«

»That is not very polite.« Castiel replied calmly and his eyes still remained fixed on Dean’s face.

»Yeah, that's because I’m not the most polite person in the universe, I guess. But hey, I just don't want you to do serious harm to your body, okay? You really should try and care more about your bodily needs.«

»I do not have bodily needs.«

»Cas-«

»Is there a point to this conversation?« Wow, someone was grumpy today. Still, Dean just sighed and decided to ruffle through Cas’ soft black hair. There was no point in talking sense into Castiel. He didn't want to listen and Dean wasn't his parent. It wasn't his job to teach him how to take care of himself properly. No, he was done taking care of other people. He had done so all this life with Sammy and where had it gotten him? Straight to hell. Because, yes, that was what this place felt like after a week. This was hell. He was growing tired of being examined by those people almost every day. He was tired of the drugs, of the prodding and the questions. He refused to give the doctor what he wanted to hear because what he wanted to hear was not what Dean wanted to feel or relive. Dr. Whitman was still convinced that Dean was a traumatized little boy, as it seemed and Dean was not willing to allow him to continue thinking this way.

»Cas, tell me, did you ever have visitors since you got here?« Dean decided to change the topic as he found himself leaning in a little closer without even quite noticing it. Castiel did not seem to mind anyway. Thinking about it, Dean realized that there was almost no personal space between them when they would sit next to each other and usually that would be something that made him nervous in the presence of another man. Not so much with Castiel. It was beyond odd at this time.

»Visitors?« Castiel replied surprised as he looked at Dean now. Immediately Dean straightened his back and found himself moving away from Castiel again. Their noses had almost touched as Castiel had turned his face towards him and realizing that made him uncomfortable all of the sudden. Hell, what would his dad think would he see Dean being that touchy-feely with another guy? Sure, he and his dad had never talked about stuff like this - and for good reason, because there was nothing that needed to be discussed there, right? »Yes … In the beginning, there have been a few journalists coming to see me. They wanted to hear my side of the story, but when I told them that I couldn't give them what they wanted, they left and never came back. I wouldn't even know who would come to visit me. I mean … I'm an angel, after all. I do not have family on this planet. All my brothers and sisters are in heaven. Still, I'm surprised that none of them ever came to see why they haven't heard of me since I came down here.«

»That's odd, I suppose.« Well, what wasn't odd about Castiel? However, he had a point there. Assuming that Castiel was speaking the truth and that he really was a real angel with wings and a harpe and a halo, then why hadn't there be any of his brothers and sisters looking for him  down here and making sure that this mysterious mission of Cas came to fruition by this point? This, of course, only made it harder to believe Cas.

»You are worried that there weren't any visitors for you by now, right?« Cas carefully probed and to Dean it almost seemed like Castiel was slowly learning how to behave like a human, although he was still not very successful in acting like one. »You are wondering why your brother hasn't visited yet.«

»Could you sound more gay, Cas?« Dean scoffed quietly and only got another look of utter confusion from his new friend. »You make me sound like some thirteen year old girl that got ditched by her boyfriend on prom night. I mean, Sam has his own life, right? He's a college student, he has a job to pay the bills and a girlfriend too. He has no time to visit his loser brother in the loony bin, right? No big deal.«

The way Cas furrowed his brows told him all he needed to really know about what he was thinking and Dean didn't like it one bit. However, before they could even begin to deepen that conversation that Dean didn't want to have anyway - especially not with all those lunatics around - Nurse Paul was approaching the duo. »Dean.« He addressed the hunter and as Dean looked up at him, the way Paul looked at him and Cas didn't escape him at all. That made him even more uncomfortable. He didn't want anyone to think that he and Cas had something going on. They were just friends, after all, and Dean wouldn't want to risk having that friend of his taken away from him because people thought that there was something going on that was maybe endangering their _healing process_. Not that Dean needed to heal anyway. »There's someone who wants to see you.«

Well, that was an odd timing, wasn't it? Still, Dean couldn't help but feel how his heart made a tiny jump in his chest and Castiel even smiled as he got up from his spot on the couch to follow Paul to the visitation room without another word to his friend. Cas stayed behind, looking after him, as Dean noticed when he threw another glance at him before he left the common room. »Who is it?« Dean immediately wanted to know as Paul lead him down the hall and through the secured doors of the ward outside to the staircase.

»I wouldn't want to ruin the surprise.«

It was Sam. It had to be Sam. Who else would come to visit him? Bobby didn't know where he was, otherwise he would have come already for sure to break him out with everything he got. No. It was Sam without a doubt. And maybe he would finally be willing to listen to Dean even. Maybe he would help him get out. Maybe Sam had finally understood what was really going on here. Maybe he finally realized that Dean shouldn't be here in the first place. However, if he was getting out of this hell hole … What about Cas? Somehow he didn't want to leave Cas behind in this place just like this. They were friends, after all.

Paul led him down to the first floor and down the hall to the visitation room and all the way, Dean's heart was only beating faster. As the door was opened for him, Dean expected to see his brother right away, after all, Sam was huge and not easy to be overlooked, but, as he stepped inside, there was no Samsquatch to be found. There were only a few people in the room, sitting at tiny tables, patients and their visitors, talking. Only at one of the tables a young woman sat, alone. She had short blonde hair and a feisty expression as Dean followed Paul to her table. Still unsure what this was all about, Dean found himself studying her face before it hit him who she was.

»Came to gloat?« He growled as Paul stepped away from them. Only reluctantly, Dean pulled the chair from the table to sit down in front of the girl.

»Why would I do that?« The girl asked and her voice was almost sweet as sugar as she did, an innocent smile flickering over her face. No black eyes this time, but Dean couldn't be fooled. Yet, he decided to act normal.

»Because I attacked you and now I'm here.«

»Still, not a reason for me to gloat. Mental illness is a serious problem, Mr. Winchester - _Dean_. I can call you Dean, can I?« He just shrugged his shoulders. As if it would matter what this girl would call him. »And I'm glad that you are getting the help you need now. I don't harbor any ill will towards you. I'm fine, you didn't hurt me.«

»And why are you here then?«

»Just to check on you, Dean.« She replied with a concerned frown on her face as she tilted her head ever so slightly to the right, her expression almost sincere. »When I heard that you were committed to this institution by your own brother after what happened, I felt sorry, honestly and I wanted to see how you are doing and if you are getting better. Call me naive, but I do believe in the best in people, you know? I don't believe that you really wanted to hurt me, only that you were confused because of your illness. I feel for you, Dean. Hell, I know what it's like to deal with a mental illness. One of my family members committed suicide because she was depressive and there was nothing I could do about it. Maybe that’s why I’m here. I think that you are a good man, Dean, and I wanted to tell you that I do not blame you or am resentful towards you. Not as long as you get the help you need.«

»That's very kind of you.« Dean replied and yet he knew that this was all bullshit. This girl, this demon, came to gloat and nothing else. She could hide behind that sweet and caring facade, but Dean knew better. Even as she reached over the table to grab his hands that had been lying there uselessly, he knew that she was fake.

»We are all only human, aren't we?« She smiled gently. »I talked to your brother, the other day.« Dean visibly flinched at that and he cursed himself for doing that, for showing weakness like that. »He told me that your father just died very recently and that you have a hard time coming to terms with that. I wanted to tell you that you have my deepest condolences, Dean.« She pressed his hands a little more again before she got up from her chair. »And I understand that you worry greatly about your brother, but don't, Dean. There is already someone who's keeping watch over Sammy.« Just for a fracture of a second, her eyes turned black as she smiled at Dean before she just left him like this, frozen to his very core, unable to move or even blink.

※※※※※※※

»Dean.« As he was pacing back and forth in the common room, Dean was very aware of how the other patients looked at him with uneasiness for his agitation, as if he was a lion pacing in his cage and they were his prey. He didn't care. He tried to wrap his brain around what happened and what he needed to do next. »Dean!« Only as Cas’ chose to raise his voice, Dean turned to face him.

»What?« Dean replied sharply and he regretted his outburst immediately as he noticed how nervous the few other men in the common room started to get immediately.

»No shouting!« One of the men cried out from his spot on a chair underneath the window as he pressed his hands to his ears. »No fighting!« And he was not the only one getting agitated by Dean’s restlessness. Before he could do anything, however, Cas had gotten up from his spot on the couch where he had all but perched like an eagle, grabbed him by the wrist and dragged him out of the common room and further down the hall towards his own room.

»You need to calm down, Dean!« He didn't even know if he had seen Castiel like this before. His gaze was so intense that Dean almost shrunk back from him as they stood in Cas’ room now. His face was almost unbearably close as Castiel’s hands rested on both his shoulders as to keep him grounded in the moment. He had to admit: it worked. »Calm down and tell me what happened and together we’ll find a way to deal with it.« Why did he even believe Castiel when he said these things? He knew that it was ridiculous for him to just accept his words as truth and yet he did it. His father would beat the crap out of him would he see Dean being so naive and trusting. He had not raised Dean to be anything but suspicious of the world around him.

»The demon, Cas!« He hissed and quickly turned his eyes to the wide open door of Cas’ room. They weren't allowed to close the doors during the daytime, which was kind of humiliating, honestly. In the beginning, he hadn't cared about all these rules, now, however, he realized just how humiliating most of them were. The worst was probably the shower situation, but he didn't want to think about that now. »She was here! That fucking demon was here!«

»You mean the one who killed your father?«

»No, the one I attacked, the one that got me here! She came to gloat. Cas … Fuck … I need to get out of here, now! I need to get to Sammy!«

»Dean.« Castiel tried again and Dean grew aware just how hard the angel was squeezing his shoulders as he did. »Dean, calm down. If that demon wanted Sam dead, he would be dead already, don't you think?« He was right, of course. If that bitch wanted to kill Sam, she wouldn't have come gloating about it to Dean first. She would have already killed his baby brother instead. Unless she wanted to torture him with the knowledge that she was coming for Sam.

»You could be right, sure. But I’m not going to sit around here and wait, Cas. I'm going to get out of this fucking hell hole and I’m going to get to Sam and make sure that he stays safe. Are you coming with me or do you want to stay here forever?«

»But Dean, what help would I be for you out there?«

»What help are you going to be for me in here? Cas … I don't know what happened to you, okay? I don't know your mission or why your mojo is gone, but we can find out together out there. But you have to risk something to find out the purpose of you being down here, okay?« Cas did not seem swayed by his words at first, but Dean was not going to leave him behind either. Castiel didn't belong in this place, that was one of the very few certainties in Dean’s life at this point. Castiel was just as little insane as Dean was! And if he really was an angel, surely he could use an angel on his side. »I mean … Have you not thought about the possibility that you were meant to end up here and meet me in this place? Maybe that was God's plan all along. By helping me, maybe I can help you find your purpose!«

»I'm not sure, Dean.« Castiel replied as he let go of Dean's shoulders to slump down on his bed instead. He almost looked defeated in the way he was slumping his shoulders now. This place was not only getting to Dean, apparently. Well, considering that Castiel had been here longer than Dean, that was really no surprise either. Apparently, Castiel had already lost all hope. There should be a sign above the door of this hospital. _Ye who enters here, abandon all hope_. Maybe this place really was hell and they were both stuck in _Malebolge_ , the eighth circle of hell together, where the counterfeiters, hypocrites, grafters, seducers, sorcerers, and simonists were stuck and tortured.

»What do you have to lose?« He almost didn't believe that Cas would finally jump in on his plan, but, with a sigh, Cas lowered his blue eyes to the ground and leaned forward on his knees so heavily as if he was finally admitting that he was defeated by his argument. A man desperate for sleep, that was all Dean could really see now.

»How do you even want to get out of here? The windows are all barred up, we can't leave this ward without a keycard to the stairwell and even if we get to the stairs, it's highly unlikely that we manage to get out of here without being seen.« At least now he was considering possible escape routes, Dean thought. If he had managed to get Cas that far already, then it would only be a matter of words now until Castiel would finally agree to his break-out plan.

»Let me worry about that, Sunshine, you just make sure you’re ready when it happens, alright?« Dean expected resistance because Castiel had already proven to be a critical person that was not always that easily swayed.

»This plan of yours better be good. I don't want to get caught and lose my privileges.« Dean couldn't help but roll his eyes at Castiel's almost pouting remark there. If the situation wouldn't be that dire and pressing, Dean would almost be tempted to smile at Castiel's worries. Then again, he could understand the angel’s worry. He had been longer in this place than he had and if this place was getting to him after a week, he didn't want to know what it had done to Castiel after five months already. He was starting to lose himself. For a second, Dean imagined castiel with wings and how each day that he was forced to stay in this hell, one more feather would drop from his wings to fall to ashes on the ground until there was nothing left but the bones. This was not a place of healing despite the claims that were made by Dr. Whitman. This was a place that was capable of breaking an angel.

Dean spent the rest of his day watching the hallways even though he knew everything he needed to know already. He knew the schedules on which the nurses were operating, he knew what happened when and how and he knew that there was no way leading out of this ward except for the doors leading to the stairwell, just as Castiel had said. Leaning against the wall close to the nurse's office and watching over the hallways, Dean took in everything around him. He took in how the patients were behaving, how the nurses were going about their work, talking to each other, caring for their patients, huffing and puffing behind the desk, filing through paperwork. Music came softly from the common room and he could see George, one of the eldest patients slow dancing with himself while the janitor was approaching from further down the hall with a soft little whistle leaving his lips as he did. As he passed Dean, he just winked and left for the stairwell with his trolley and his window-cleaning equipment. It was going to rain and yet this man was going to wash the windows. Even the staff here was crazy. Well, it wouldn't be too hard getting a keycard from one of the nurses, he assumed. However, he would need a distraction and as he cast a look out of one of the large window, his plan started to fall into place.

※※※※※※※

His reflection was staring right back at him from the window. Accusingly. The eyes that stared right back at him in the darkness of the world outside, were lifeless, dull, empty and yet they had a spark of judgment in them.

»That's quite the storm building up out there, huh?« Jessica's voice was what ripped him from his darkening thoughts as she closed the door to their apartment. Turning around, Sam saw how she placed the grocery bag on their dining table. Her hair was ruffled by the wind outside and a few wet drops were visible on her purple leather jacket that Sam had gotten her for her birthday. What an odd coincidence that his girlfriend shared a birthday with his brother. Wouldn't it be like this, Sam would not have been reminded on Dean every year on January 24th. He had told Jess that his brother had the same birthday as she had right after they had met and ever since Jessica had encouraged him to call Dean on his birthday. Needless to say, he never had. Now, thinking about this, he felt guilty. »I think I just managed to get home in time before the storm hits.« Jessica smiled and brushed back her long blonde hair over her right shoulder. Wouldn't she usually brush it back over her left shoulder because she favored that side?

»What's wrong, Honey?« She smiled as she unzipped her jacket and hung it carelessly over one of the chairs. Work and college were stressful these days and nothing showed that more than Jess behaving out of the ordinary, Sam assumed, as he walked over to her to greet her with a chaste kiss on the lips like they usually would, before he grabbed the jacket to hang it up on the coatrack. Jess usually hated it when clothes would lie around or be hung over the furniture. Just like Dean, she was quite the neat freak and yes, that was what his brother was against contrary belief. Most people would actually never believe how tidy Dean really was. Then again, he had learned from their father to always be prepared and a good soldier was tidy. »Is something bothering you?«

»No…« Sam replied quietly and with a sigh he strolled back over to her and started unpacking the grocery bag. »It's just … I thought about Dean, you know? I don't know why, but I thought about that I never called him on his birthdays and what a dick-move that was.«

»He probably didn't mind that, Sam.« Jess reassured him gently as she brushed her hand against Sam's right biceps. »He’s your big brother, after all, he knows you love him and care about him. You are a very busy person, Dean knows that.«

»Yeah … Sure, but … Still. I never thought about how he must have felt all these years, you know? And now that I do think about it, I realize what a bad brother I was. I mean, the least I could have done was call him on his birthday, right? Tell him I love him on his birthday, make sure he knows that I'm always gonna be there for him. Maybe it wouldn't have gotten this bad. Maybe he would not be in this nuthouse then. Dad's death completely set him off track and no wonder! I wasn't there for him all these years. Had I been available, maybe he would have come to me sooner, asked for help or at least talked to me.«

»Sam, you can't look into other people's heads.« Jess urged as she brushed her fingers against his left cheek shortly like a mother would, maybe.

»No, but I should have known, Jess.« He sighed before he returned to his task of putting the groceries in the fridge, before a smile crossed his face only to quickly vanish again. »You know, I kept thinking about how he always made sure I had everything I wanted, while growing up. I mean, Dad left us alone so much that Dean was more a father to me than a brother. Our dad usually forgot about our birthdays - especially Dean’s. It's not his fault that he's the way he is, right? Our dad … He only saw a soldier in Dean, Dad’s perfect blunt tool to use. He and I always fought, but it was different with me and Dad. I always knew Dad loved me and that this was different from the way he treated and loved Dean. As a child, I never understood but now I start to get it.«

»Your brother seems to have loved your father very much.«

Sam paused at this thought before he put the milk in the fridge and closed it again only to lean against it and cross his arms lost in thought. »You know … I don't know that he did.« He finally said with a small frown ghosting over his face.

»What do you mean?«

Since Dean had come back into his life, Sam found himself thinking about his brother and their family more and more with each day, reminiscing over the way he had grown up beside Dean and how much had been taken from them. »I mean … Dean says he loved Dad and he stayed with Dad after I went away despite the fact that he could have run off a long time ago. But I don't know if that was _love_ necessarily. He tells himself that, yes, but I think it was more of the fact that Dean felt dependent on Dad and that he was terrified of that man. Dean would have never dared to defy our father in any way and running away from him would have been that bad of a betrayal that he would have been dead to our father.«

»But why did he got that off track then after his death? Shouldn't he be glad more than he is heartbroken?« He had never really talked to Jess about his family, but doing so now, thinking about it all loud for someone else to hear and react to it, having his beliefs challenged in this regard by his girlfriend, felt actually quite nice.

»Dean … Well, Dean always wanted a real family, as far as I can tell.« Sam sighed finally and thought about his childhood with his brother and how caring he had always been towards Sam and their dad. Dean had always been the one to make sure that they were alright. »Dean is very homely, he is very caring and attentive. Family means everything to him, just as loyalty. He needs his family like oxygen and he doesn't know what to do with himself when he has no one to care for. My brother has a big mouth and knows his way around, but family will always be his weakness. He always just wanted us three to stay together as one team - that was why he was more or less Dad’s punching bag and the buffer between me and Dad, you know? He did everything in his powers to keep us all together. I think now that Dad’s gone, he has lost himself. He’s angry at the world. To Dean, family and happiness always meant something very different than for me because he got to experience what a real family and childhood was supposed to look like before Mom’s death.« He brushed a hand through his hair. »Hell, and here am I … the last bit of family he has left and what did I do? Right, instead of helping my brother when he cried out for help for once in his life, I threw him in the nuthouse. Good job, Sam.«

Jessica bridged the distance between them again as she first put her hands on his shoulder before gently pulling him down to her so that she could embrace him softly. »No Sam … You can't blame yourself like this, Honey.« She cooed. »You did help him. Your brother needs professional help, Sam. You did the right thing as you committed him and Dean will see that. He will thank you for what you did. It's not easy, this situation, I get it. I really do, but Dean needs to be where he is now. And when he's better, he'll get out of there and the both of you can start fresh.«

As Sam closed his arms tightly around his girlfriend’s slim waist, he couldn't help but close his eyes for a moment and just lean into the embrace and comfort it offered. »I just wished … I wished I would finally be allowed to visit him, you know? To show him that I care, to make sure he’s alright and gets treated well.«

»Don't worry, you’ll get your chance.«

»You know … Even when I get my chance … I’m afraid to face my own brother. Isn't that just great? Aren't I just some hero?« He scoffed as he let go of Jess only to walk back to the window again. »Oh man, Dad would be so proud of me. I’m that much of a sissy that I’m too afraid to visit my big brother in the loony bin after I get him there.«

»Come on, Sweetheart, let us cook dinner together and afterwards we watch your favorite movie - _again_.« Jess tried to sway him as she already took out a pot from the cabinet. »And tomorrow you’ll call the hospital and ask Dr. Whitman if you’re allowed to see your brother finally, okay?«

Sam nodded. Of course, Jessica was right. There was just no use of him torturing himself like this. And yet, as he later lay in his bed while outside the storm had finally arrived at Stanford and was blowing through the streets with thunder and lightning roaring as loudly as if a train was driving right through his living room, Sam found himself unable to sleep.

He could only stare at the ceiling of the bedroom, while the lightning from outside casted all kinds of odd and creepy looking shapes at the white tinted ceiling. He thought about all the times there had been a thunderstorm during his childhood and how he had been so afraid of them, that he had always snuck into Dean’s bed, whenever they had been alone and thus having separate beds. Of course, his brother had taunted him mercilessly every time it was over and used the fact that Sam was afraid of thunder and lightning against his baby brother, but in the moment, Dean had always readily lifted his blankets for him and let Sam snuggle up against him. He had always put his arms around him and calmed him until Sam would have been able to sleep soundly. Sometimes, Sam wondered if Dean had been afraid himself and if him joining Dean in his bed, had helped to calm Dean down too. As a child, he had never thought that there could be anything his brother might be afraid of and to this day he still had his troubles thinking of anything Dean could be scared of.

However, he was no child any longer and he knew that Dean was just a guy and not the superhero he had made him out to be as s boy. As a child, he had never realized how deeply troubled his big brother really was, how bad an influence their father was on Dean’s mind. And now his brother saw demons and monsters everywhere he went. What fears had their father installed in Dean throughout all these years? What had he done to his brother to make him believe all these awful things? For god’s sake, how was it possible that John Winchester had managed to break his brother’s mind like this?

It was already past midnight as Sam got up again. After he strolled back into the living room and switched on the lamp next to the couch, he found the duffle bag he was looking for immediately, placed next to the television, waiting for Sam to finally have a look inside.

After he had gotten Dean committed, he had taken care of his things. Dean's car stood outside on the street, Dean’s stuff from the car was in this duffle bag and to think that everything that Dean possessed in this life fitted into one simple duffle bag, almost broke his heart especially when he would look around his own flat that was so full of unnecessary things. Dean had not even a home. He had never realized this until now.

He grabbed the duffel bag and sat down on the couch with it. Until now, he had not dared to look inside, but now, as he opened the bag, the first thing he saw was the leatherbound diary of Corporal John E. Winchester.

****

**-End of Chapter 7-**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3


	8. Chapter 8

The storm was raging outside already as Dean snuck out of his room. One would have thought that stealing the skeleton key from the nurses would be more difficult after he had already done so, but no. Not at all, in fact. He could hear the other patients whining and crying behind their doors like small children who didn't know what to make of the thunderstorm outside. They were pacing through their rooms, some were rattling on their doors. It was pure terror radiating from those men and right through these doors and that was exactly what Dean needed tonight. He knew that he and Cas had not many ways of getting out of here undetected - not without the help of chaos and so chaos was what he would create.

Dean was quick to hurry down the hallway after he had closed his door silently behind him so that his disappearance would not be too apparent right away. As he looked in through the window of Cas’ door, he found him sitting on his bed, ready to leave with Dean. There were no words after he had unlocked the door, only a small smirk on Dean’s face as Cas joined him in the hallway and closed the door behind him just as silently as Dean had. From now on, they needed to act swiftly and without hesitation when they didn't want to get caught before they could even attempt their escape.

It was almost a miracle how Cas and he managed to sneak into the stairwell. As the door fell shut behind them softly, Dean just dropped the keycard he had stolen from one of the nurses earlier this day, as he could hear the ruckus coming from inside the ward - the yelling and screaming of the patients running through the hallways and the shouts of the alarmed nurses. Letting out the other patients hadn't been the easiest endeavor, for sure, and maybe Dean even felt a little sorry for creating so much chaos. »Quick now, before the security comes!« He turned to Cas as he hurried down a fleet of stairs to the second floor, Cas trailing right after him, flying down the stairs.

»We can't just walk out the front door, Dean!« Cas whispered as he followed him hurriedly down the stairs as quickly and quietly as he could. He had not been a fan of Dean’s plan in the first place but he had just gone with it regardless of his previous concerns. Of course, first he had complained over the very real possibility that he might lose his privileges and wouldn't be allowed in the yard again if they would get caught but it hadn't taken much for Dean to convince his friend to follow through with this plan anyway. What were his privileges in this hellhole compared to real and actual freedom out there?

»Of course we can't, but we can climb through one of the windows in this stairwell! We just need to get lower.« Dean replied over his shoulder because, yes, his plan was not the most thought-out he ever had. But at least he knew that there were no bars in front of the windows of the stairwell and thus they were the only way out for him and Cas except for any of the doors.

»But Dean, without the right key we can't open any of the windows!«

»We can still destroy one.« Destruction was usually the answer his father would teach him to use and so, Dean had decided to follow his father’s example in this case too. However, as they came to a slithering halt on the landing between the second and first floor, they were faced with a wide open window through which the storm blew leaves and rain straight at them. It was almost too good to be true. Was this God’s way of showing them the way? Of leading one of his angels out of this hell-hole to aid him in his endeavor?

They had no time to think about it too much. This window was still a bit high for them to use as an escape route but they couldn't risk going any deeper. Surely the nurses would soon call for help against the rioting patients on their ward after Dean had opened some of the doors and handed one of the other patients the skeleton key with the order to open the rest of the doors. »Come on, Cas!« Dean thundered as he ran up to the window to climb out of it and just jump. He was not even aiming for the bushes underneath the window and yet, miraculously he landed almost softly. He could deal with a few scratches and cuts. As he looked up to the open window, however, he was almost afraid that Cas had chickened out on him, only to realize that this feathery bastard had more guts than he gave him credit for. Right after Dean had stumbled out of the bushes, Castiel landed on them not so very elegantly. At least he was not injured by the fall. The least Dean could use now was an angel with a broken ankle or something like this.

It was Dean who leaned down to help up his friend, grabbing him by the arms to pull him to his feet. »Come on, quick, we don't have much time until someone notices that we’re gone, Cas!« They were not exactly dressed for the occasion, of course. They were both wearing their white pants and shirts like all patients did and only those ugly blue slippers they had to wear inside. They needed to change clothes as soon as possible if they didn't want to draw attention towards themselves.

The wind was ripping at their clothes and their hair, the rain had oozed right through the thin fabrics of their pajamas and left them both freezing and wet as they made the run for the nearby forest which was looming ahead, creepy and mysterious and probably not the wisest of choices for a hiding spot and yet the only place they could hide from view at this moment. Only as they had dove into the thick darkness of the forest that had swallowed them both wholly the second they had entered it, Dean slowed his pace panting in exhaustion. He was quite fit, as he needed to be as a hunter, but already those drugs and being locked inside the mental asylum without the chance of getting any exercise had taken its toll. Castiel, however, was worse for the wear as he was stumbling after him now. Only then did Dean realize, that he was still holding onto Castiel’s forearm. Not that he would care.

»What now?« Castiel wheezed as they slowed their pace in the safety of the nightly forest - although safety was relative in the middle of a thunderstorm. »How do you suppose we find that demon of yours? Do you even know where she might be?«

»The hell should I know?« Dean huffed. »First, we go to Sammy and get my stuff.«

»I doubt that he will just let you in so willingly in the middle of the night and after you ran away from the asylum.« Castiel frowned. »He will know that they didn't just let you go, Dean.«

Of course, Sam would know that Dean had escaped the asylum would he see him tonight and of course Sam, this goody-two-shoes, would call the cops and the asylum on his ass to get him back behind lock and key where he apparently belonged as far as his own brother was concerned. The thought of Sam thinking like this about him, after everything he had always done for this little bugger, still hurt like hell, that much Dean was willing to admit. »True that's why we’re breaking in.«

Despite the darkness around, Dean could almost feel Castiel's surprised large blue eyes on him. »We can't break in that's criminal!«

»So what? We just broke _out_ of the loony bin, so we might as well break _into_ my brother's apartment to steal _my_ stuff.« No big deal, right? It wouldn't be the first time Dean would break in somewhere he was not welcome. Of course, he had never broken into Sammy’s apartment and a part of him still wasn't sure if that was what he really wanted to do in the first place either. However, Sam was in possession of not only his car keys but his stuff and he needed that stuff. Especially when he would have found that bitch. This time he would not do a half-assed job, oh no. He had his holy water ready to be used in his duffel bag and the exorcism chant burned into his very memory since he had been ten years old. Plus - and that was hopefully a big plus - he had an angel by his side. An actual God-send Angel of the Lord. What could go wrong with Castiel by his side? The only real question that remained was now where Sam had his duffel bag with all his crap. If he was lucky, it was still in the Impala because then he would only need to get the keys to the car.

He was aware, though, that he might think a little too highly of Cas. Looking at the situation a little more neutral, a little more level-headed, Dean was aware that he did not know a thing about his angelic friend. And yes, he was aware that Cas might just be crazy and not really an angel. After all, everything was arguing against that. Castiel had no powers since he came to earth, as he had proclaimed himself, he had no wings to show to Dean and no other way of making Dean believe him. Hell, if anything, Dean should be a lot more skeptical of this squinty-eyed man for he had always known that there were no such things as angels. There couldn't be. Still, even if Cas was just crazy and not really an angel, he was a nice guy and somehow Dean felt as if he could trust him. _This will be your downfall, Dean._ The voice inside his head was clear and dark and all too familiar to Dean as he marched onwards. _You are too naive. Castiel could always stab you in the back. You are going to die if you keep going on like this. Then again, it's not as if death would be scary in your eyes anyway, right, you fucking pussy? Dad would be pissed could he see you now._

»Where did you last find that demon?« Castiel spoke up and managed to rip him from his thoughts but as he did, Dean realized that they were already almost at the country road that was leading into town, swiveling past the hospital. When did that happen? He felt like he was losing track of time. Ever since he had first set a foot into that hospital, the world around him seemed to become less and less clear, less and less focused to Dean and although he knew that this was not true, it was hard to keep his head on straight even now that he was out of there.

»Near the shopping mall.« Dean replied with a frown as he brushed his hand through his dripping wet hair. Hell, they needed to get out of this forest and that quick too. The storm was already so bad that it was ripping at the trees and even being close to a forest during such a weather was suicidal at best. »Apparently, she works as a waitress in a bar close by that mall.«

»How do you know?«

»I acted concerned and asked the officers after they took me in. I'm a good actor.« _Yeah, and a good liar, right? All you do is lie your way through life. Nothing you say or do has any meaning to it. Everything you do and say is just an empty, ugly little thing. Dad knew that. That's why he didn't trust you enough with the colt, Dean. That's why he didn't want to take you along for the ride in the first place, remember?_ »We need to keep a low profile though. I don't know who this bitch meant as she said that there was someone keeping watch over Sam and why she hasn't done something to him yet. But one wrong move might cost my brother his life.« _And what if Sammy is already possessed himself? What if that was why he so gladly committed you to the mental asylum? He wanted to get rid of you, Dean. He’s one of them and you know that you have to kill him, right? You know what to do._

Dean couldn't help but shake his head as if that way he would be able to shake off that voice too. However, the devil was walking right beside him as he did, whispering into his ear, grabbing hard onto Dean’s arm so that he would never be able to escape from his clutches, telling him those dark secrets he already knew deep down but refused to accept as real. The devil had marked him as his a long time ago.

»We’ll save your brother, don't worry, Dean.« How could he even claim something like this with such seriousness in his voice? How could he know that they would be able to save Sam? And from whom? The demon? Or from himself and his own incapability to see the reality of these things? _Sam will never believe you, Dean. Sam thinks you lost your marbles, and perhaps you have? Sam has never taken you seriously, so why should he start that now?_

»I feel like I'm going crazy.« There was no response and for a moment, Dean wasn't even sure if he had said this out loud. Maybe he hadn't. Maybe he started to lose control over his own mouth and, more importantly, over his own mind. However, he couldn't help but wonder if he ever had a mind of his own in the first place or if every little thought he deemed his, was, in reality, his father’s.

»You’re not crazy.« Castiel’s response came a little too late as the angel put a hand on his shoulder in something that should probably simulate comfort but coming from someone like Castiel who spoke and behaved like an alien half the time, it felt dull and without meaning, yet he appreciated the effort the angel was putting into this. They left the forest behind them and reached the deserted country road. During such a storm no one would be driving up or down this street and thus they had no way of getting into town by hitchhiking, but they also had reduced the risk of getting caught by someone driving down the road and recognizing their stylish outfits. »And neither am I.« Hell, that was reassuring, wasn’t it? The truth was, all these drugs and the therapy sessions and just being surrounded by crazy people day in day out, started to make him question his own sanity even after such a short time already.

What if Sammy was right and there were no such things as monsters? What if, in the end, he _was_ this crazy person Sam claimed him to be? What if, in the end, his father _had_ been crazy? What if, in the end, his entire life had been a lie? What if nothing he had done or seen or thought he did was real? What if the monsters he had killed hadn't been monsters at all? What if all of this had been just in his head from the get-go? Dean quickly shook off these thoughts. He couldn't delve into this now, not with so much at stake here. Hell, even _if_ he was crazy, even _if_ Castiel was crazy, they had just escaped the asylum and now they needed to get away as quickly as possible without being caught. Because, yes, even if he was crazy, there was no way he would stay at this place and sink down even deeper to the bottom of this cesspool of insanity and pure madness. He would not drown in there and forget who he was. He would not lose himself amongst the waves of madness and time.

As he looked at Cas now, the angel just smirked and never looked something more out of place than he did now as if all of this was some kind of cosmic joke that eluded Dean’s understanding and that he could never hope to understand no matter how old he would grow or how wise he would become.

»Come on now, Sunshine, we have to hurry up now.« However, as they began running again, Dean could not even name the feeling in the deep of his guts whenever Castiel would look at him. It was … odd. He almost felt like he was going to be sick and yet ... It didn't even feel that bad. Yeah, that asylum really got to him already.

Dean wasn't really able to tell if it was just dumb luck or maybe even something like fate that allowed him an Castiel to actually reach town before dawn. Maybe a little bit of both, but that was pure speculation. As soon as they had reached the outskirts of town and civilization, Dean had found a car he could steal with some of the things he found in the backyard of a house. By now, the storm was so bad that he actively had to lean against the wind to move forward and the same was true for Castiel who, to Dean’s surprise, was not even objecting to stealing a car, as he had expected the angel would. Well, maybe sometimes the ends justify the means, even in the eyes of an angel.

They were soaking wet by the point they had managed to climb into the car, their clothes and hair beyond disheveled, dripping onto the leather seats of the small grey honda civic, and both of them frozen to the core. There was a booster seat in the backseat and Dean almost felt a little sorry for stealing a car that probably belonged to a young mother by the looks of the interior and the contents of the glove box. Well, as long as he would not crash the car and just park it somewhere it would get found easily by the police, maybe she would get it back, he assumed as he was driving into town. During a storm like this, no one was out on the streets, of course, no one was even driving in their cars to get somewhere and Dean was aware just how dangerous it was simply being out in the open like this in the first place.

He parked the car at an underbridge, as they were only blocks away from his brother’s apartment now. From here they would walk, he decided. »We have to wait for the storm to pass and for my brother to leave the apartment. Sam might not be a hunter, but even he will notice us breaking in. I don't have my tools, after all.«

»We could try the window.«

»We could, but his apartment is on the fourth floor.« The sigh that left his throat felt a lot more exhausted than he was willing to admit. They couldn't stay here and wait and they both knew it too. This car would soon be reported stolen and they were not exactly hiding here. In addition to all this, they needed to change into something dry at least. Dean was not flimsy like this usually, but they couldn't sit around in those wet clothes, freezing for hours. What good would it do them if they managed to follow through with his plan and escape town after killing that demon bitch if they would be violently sick and unable to keep moving?

»We could go without the holy water.« Castiel offered as he looked at Dean with furrowed brows and his forehead covered in thin lines, looking all the bit concerned that Dean felt.

»No, we can't.« He had never done this without holy water. He had never gone against a demon by himself either. Hell! A few years ago he had not even dreamed of ever facing off against a demon in the first place even _with_ his dad as back-up. And yes, he couldn't deny that the prospect of fighting one alone without his dad by his side, scared the crap out of him. As he drove his hand through his ungodly wet hair he produced yet another sigh. »Okay … You’re right, Cas. We have to act quickly. The bar this bitch works in probably closes in an hour or so. Our best chance is to get to her then.« If the bar had been actually open despite the storm and the warnings on TV. Then again, this was America, after all, and going against logic was pretty much every American's God-given right. Of course, this bar was open. As long as there was no full-fledged hurricane coming this way, most bars and restaurants would act as if nothing at all happened.

To their luck, they found everything they needed to pick a lock, at least an old one like that in Sam’s apartment door in the glove box of this lady’s car. Bless low-income college students and their cheap apartments with their cheap locks. Dean couldn't help but feel uneasy, as he and Cas stood in front of the door to Sam’s apartment, though. There was not a single sound coming from inside, nothing that might hint at the fact that Sam might be awake at all. Seeing his car parked in front of the house on the street, had at least given him a small sense of reassurance that the world was still working the way it was supposed to be working - whatever that meant or entailed. In a few minutes, he would sit behind Baby’s wheel again and be out of here and could act as if nothing of that had ever happened. He loved his little brother, but he would never leave Sam his car. He had owned that car because unlike Sam, Dean had not left their father to take the easy way out. He had lived with that man all his life. _So, not everything good and fun with good ol’ Dad now, wasn't it?_

He braced himself against these thoughts that were creeping into his mind as he knelt in front of Sam’s door. Luckily, the woman they stole the car from, had had a whole bunch of bobby pins in her glove box. It was not ideal, but it got the job done and luckily to him, his father had taught him early on how to pick locks with various items because not always would he have proper lock-picks with him and this was just one of these occasions were he needed to be creative. He preferred his lock-picks, of course, but he had learned to use bobby pins or wire too. Still, the words of Dr. Whitman were starting to get to him. All this talk about his father, all those questions eluding to his father being abusive towards him, started to make him sick and taint the fond memories he had of his dad. It wasn't right. His father had been a good man and he had taught him many things that he knew Dean would need in his everyday life.

Maybe other dads would teach their sons how to fix stuff around the house or help them with their homework, but his dad had probably always known that Dean was a lost cause anyway - so why bother teaching him things that might not be useful in his life as a hunter? Sam had been the smart one - he had just been the practical and useful one. Sam had always been the one to have an intellectual conversation with, Dean had always been the one to work with.

As the lock of the door clicked, Dean rose from his spot and was relieved to find that his brother had not put the chain into its own lock. He was getting lax with his security measures. _Dad would be disappointed_.

As he quietly opened the door a little more to sneak in, Dean shortly motioned to Cas to stay behind. It was worse enough when _he_ would break into his brother’s apartment, he didn't need some clumsy angel to follow him inside and possibly wake up anyone inside this apartment. Dean instinctively ducked as he crept into the apartment and was immediately confronted by the dim light that was on inside the living room. He found his brother asleep on the couch and his heart sank as he noticed that Sam had their father’s diary lying on his stomach. He could impossibly take the book away from Sam without moving the hand that was lying on top and waking him in the process. His brother had always had a deep sleep but still, Dean wouldn't want to risk it because as fate would have it, his brother would have changed to being a light-sleeper in their years apart just for this occasion.

He couldn't find the keys to the Impala in the small key cabinet on the wall next to the coat rag, which seemed to be more decorative than anything else anyway, judging by the fact that most of the keys had been thrown into an ugly little ceramic bowl on a sideboard. He didn't find his keys there either.  At least, he found his duffel bag right next to the TV on the ground and didn't hesitate to grab it. It was this moment, as he lifted the bag to swing it over his shoulder that the keys of Baby flew right out of the open duffel only to land on the ground. He cursed himself under his breath for not thinking about closing the bag first as he bent down to quickly grab his keys and make his way towards the door.

»Dean?« Although his brother sounded groggy, Dean was aware that Sam would be quick to shake off his sleepiness as soon as he would realize that he was not dreaming, and so, after he threw one panicked look over his shoulder and found his brother sitting up on the couch, Dean hightailed out of the apartment with no care for alarming anyone.

»What’s wrong?« He heard Castiel enquire as he grabbed him by the wrist and started pulling him along and down the stairs. After they were down the first flight of stairs, Dean could hear Sam’s stomping feet hurrying out of the apartment already and even Castiel seemed to have realized the urgency of the situation by now as they ran down the stairs, skipping steps and jumping down the last few steps to almost stumble on the slippery tiles thanks to their wet slippers. Dean and Castiel rushed outside without second thought and made it to the Impala that was waiting for them patiently just a few feet away from the door. How his brother had managed to find a parking spot like this just outside his door was beyond his imagination and probably included dark magic or selling his soul to Satan himself.

Just as he unlocked the doors and climbed inside with Castiel, he could see Sam appear through the door to the apartment building and running out into the rain and after them like a wild animal that had caught the smell of its prey and would not stop until he would have caught up. As Baby’s engine roared to live, Dean almost felt as if this was just some random hunt and they were about to leave the scene before someone would find some dead body with them.

»And off we go, Dad.« Dean addressed the man who was sitting in the passenger's seat beside him and only heard the gruff response he was so used to by now, that whiskey drawl that was so very much his father that he almost didn't remember his voice ever sounding differently than that, after all those years as he pulled out of the parking space and gunned the engine to drive away as quickly as possible. Thankfully, Sam had no car of his own.

※※※※※※※

Castiel didn't know what to say as he was sitting across the desk from Dr. Whitman again. He couldn't remember ever having felt as shitty as he did now. He had never expected that he could be able to feel this way in the first place. He was an angel. He was not supposed to feel anything like this or anything at all for that matter. Now, however, he was cold and miserable and didn't know what to say or do as the doctor was staring at him out of tired eyes down his crooked nose. He was still wet to the core and freezing like mad. All he wanted was a hot bath and, yes, to climb into his bed and sleep. He felt tired and that only added to his discomfort. He shouldn't be able to feel tired.

Then again, the Holy Water _should_ have worked on that demon and he _should_ not be here. She should have reacted to the Holy Water, but at the very least to the exorcism chant. She hadn't even _flinched_.

»I'm sure you can imagine how disappointed I am, Jimmy.«

 _Jimmy_ , not Castiel. The doc had always been the only person in this place, except for Dean, who had called him Castiel and now he didn't. Now, suddenly, even the doctor called him Jimmy again and Castiel felt as if he was starting to lose something of himself as he did - the part that made him Castiel, perhaps, the last reminder of who he was after he had lost his powers for good. What if he would vanish completely? Who was he, if not Castiel?

He knew that Dr. Whitman wanted him to drop his fantasies and go back to being Jimmy Novak, but what made this truly impossible was the fact that there was no Jimmy Novak left to go back to. Jimmy was dead. So where would he go from there? If not Castiel and not Jimmy, who was he going to be?

»I can.« He replied solemnly.

»I thought you and Mr. Winchester would be wiser than this. I really thought that the both of you might even have a nurturing influence on one another. Imagine my disappointment as I heard what happened, Jimmy.« Dr. Whitman sounded every bit like the disappointed father that Castiel had seen only on TV for now and he didn't quite know how to feel about being scolded like a misbehaving child when he was, in reality, a celestial millennial old being. The old Castiel, the Castiel who had acted first and asked questions later, would have smitten him perhaps.

»I’m sorry, Dr. Whitman.« He said instead.

»I should have known that Dean Winchester would try and get you to follow him in his insanity.« He wouldn't say it, but Castiel knew exactly what he was thinking. Dr. Whitman thought that he, of all people, had been exactly Dean’s preferred target, gullible and crazy enough to believe him in his monster fantasies all too willingly. And what a perfect pair they were from the point of someone like Dr. Whitman, right? A man who thought he was an angel and a man who thought he was hunting down monsters and demons.

»It wasn't Dean's fault, Doctor. I chose to do this with him by my own free will.« _Free will_ , what a strange concept that was. »And that was an entirely new experience for me. I was never asked what I wanted to do in my very long life. I never experienced having something even remotely akin to free will.« Angels weren't supposed to have free will, as far as he was aware. They were meant to follow orders, to be good soldiers and never to question anything that was happening around them. The last angel who had questioned their father’s decisions sat in a cage in hell now. No. They all possessed a sense of free will, though maybe not as strongly as humans, but free will meant to fall from grace and Castiel could only wonder if that was what had happened to him. Then again, all he ever did was to follow orders.

He felt the tired grey eyes of Dr. Whitman linger a little while longer on him, while Castiel gave his best impression of a remorseful human - as far as TV had taught him how that looked. Finally, he sighed and pulled a hand over his face. »Okay, Jimmy. I think for today this is enough. When you leave my office, Bob will accompany you to the bathroom. You need a hot bath, we wouldn't want you to catch a cold now in addition to all of this, and then you go straight to your room. You need rest and we can talk about the punishment for your doings later.«

Castiel nodded but although Dr. Whitman was looking at him expectantly to leave the room, Castiel stayed for a moment longer. »What about Dean?« He carefully prodded. »Where is he now?« Oh, he knew where Dean was. Hell, of course, he knew. His friend was going through purgatory - figuratively speaking, of course - right in this moment, and there was nothing Castiel could do about it. He could not help him there.

»Dean’s current condition does not allow him to be amongst other patients.« Dr. Whitman explained and Castiel, though eager to ask further questions and demand to know every little detail he could get about his friend, knew that he wouldn't get more out of the doctor. So, finally, he rose from his spot on the other side of that all too familiar oak-wood desk and turned around to leave the room.

Last night and the events of the early morning hours were still stuck in his bones, even as he later laid down in a bathtub filled to the brim with, to him, almost scalding hot water. His body was so cold that the heat was almost unbearable, but of course, he knew that the water wasn't really that hot and that it shouldn't matter - not to him, anyway. He remembered telling Jimmy to stick his arm into boiling water and keeping him from harm as he did.

Castiel avoided looking at Bob, the nurse, who sat just a few feet away on a chair underneath the old large window and was reading today's newspaper. Castiel didn't care much for being naked in another man’s presence. He didn't understand the concept of shame in the same way humans did. This was not even his body, after all, and he was sure that Jimmy had no objections either. He was probably quite content with being in Heaven while Castiel had to fight down here and didn't even quite know what it was that he was meant to fight.

He sunk a little deeper into the hot water at this thought and couldn't suppress the sigh that had been threatening its way outside for quite some time now. This night … Hell, it was a nightmare and Castiel was still not sure if he really was awake right now. Looking back at all of this now, he couldn't even process everything that had happened properly. He and Dean had made their grand escape around 11 PM last night and somehow managed to get into town. They had stolen a car from a random stranger’s driveway. They had driven into Stanford. Castiel had been there as Dean had broken into his own brother’s apartment to grab his belongings. He had been there as Dean’s younger brother had chased after them and as Dean had jumped in the car with him to drive off and escape his own brother’s clutches. All of this, Castiel had witnesses and that wasn't even nearly the worst of what happened.

Then again, Castiel wouldn't be able to say what had been the worst of his experiences throughout the night even if he would need to decide on one. Had it been as they had arrived at the parking lot in front of the shopping mall just a few feet away from the bar? Or when Dean had started frantically searching through his bag for the small flacon of Holy Water? Was it the moment this young woman had left the bar to walk to her car? Or when Dean had practically jumped out of his car, in one hand the Holy Water and in the other a hunting knife with a jagged edge? Maybe it had been the moment when Castiel had decided that he would follow him to face the young woman or when she had started running away from them screaming bloody murder. Maybe it had been the moment when Dean had caught up to her, grabbed her hard by her narrow shoulders and sprayed her with the Holy Water from his flacon before he had started shouting the exorcism incantation he seemingly knew by heart - all of this to no avail. Maybe it had been the moment, when the girl, terrified out of her mind, started screaming in terror and possibly pain from Dean’s attack on her or when the police arrived at the scene. Maybe it was a conglomeration of all of these events, really. Or maybe the worst of all was when the police had needed to manhandle Dean into their car, when Castiel had only been able to watch his friend shout and scream and fight against those people completely out of his mind with his eyes huge and bloodshot and his blood boiling like lava through his veins.

He had never seen Dean like this until now. The man they had needed to put in handcuffs and throw into the back of the police car until the ambulance of the asylum had arrived to collect them again, hadn't been his friend but a proper monster himself, just one of those things that Dean was hunting usually. For a single second there, Castiel had almost been certain that Dean’s eyes had been black completely as he had been forced into the ambulance.

Castiel sank even deeper into the water as he thought about this night and he only stopped after his head was completely under water. Somehow things seemed a lot clearer like this most of the times. Not so much today. Today nothing seemed to make sense anymore.

****

**-End of Chapter 8-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3


	9. Chapter 9

_What are the things that you want? What are the things that you dream? Your car? That's Dad’s. Your favorite leather jacket? Dad’s. Your music? Dad’s. Do you even have one original thought?_

The voice that was speaking so clearly in his ear was like poison seeping through his brain, infiltrating his entire body and soul like a black gooey mass, and there was no way he could stop it. He was a prisoner of his own mind, surrounded by a pure white world and the man that leaned against the wall on the other side of the room, looking down on him out of pure black eyes.

»Sooner or later, you’re gonna die and this is what becomes of you, Dean.« The voice hummed and even in his current state of mind, it was all too obvious just how pleased that unholy creature was with itself, wearing Dean’s own face, talking with Dean’s own voice, not giving him a chance to escape or try and ignore it. »Your father would be disappointed in you, Deanie.« The voice echoed in his brain. »You can't even follow the most basic of orders. You can't even be not a complete fuck-up. Your father wouldn't have let himself get caught. He would have killed that bitch and if it had meant to kill the host, so be it. You didn't have the balls to do it right. It's like your Daddy always said, right? When it comes down to it, you are just some useless little fag that is a disgrace to his name.«

He tried squeezing his eyes shut but he could still see, he was still surrounded by snow - pure and white and without a flaw.

※※※※※※※

Sam felt shaken to the bone as he stood in front of the door of this cell and looked through the small window inside. He had never thought that one day he would find himself in such a bizarre situation. He had never imagined that one day he would see his brother like this and yet here he was, staring through that little window and watching his own brother tied to a bed mumbling to himself. Sam's right hand was resting on the metal door and he was so close to the thick glass of the window that his nose almost touched it and he felt the urge to run inside and remove the padded bonds that were binding Dean to the bed.

»Why is he tied to the bed?« His voice was suddenly very hoarse and low as he did not even look at the doctor standing next to him. His eyes were fixed on his brother as if Dean was somehow the only thing in the world that really mattered now and as if nothing else around him even existed. He was back to being a small child again and his brother was his whole world once more. Dean looked pale in this snow-white room and his all-white clothes and Sam couldn't miss the thick bandage that was wrapped around his head. Had he been hurt by the police earlier? He wanted to comfort him and yet he was very well aware that he wouldn't be able to. Hell, even if he would be, this wouldn't help Dean. But did this right there help Dean really?

»That's just for his own safety. It's rather unusual to tie our patients to their bed when they reside in the padded cells, however, we had to change cells a few hours ago as he had been ripping off the padding of another cell and tried to hurt himself on the door.« Out of the corner of his eye, Sam noticed how Dr. Whitman motioned to his own head to emphasize what he meant.

»How?« The question left his mouth like a breath of air although he could all but see it play out in front of his eyes.

»He proceeded to bang his head against the door and every hard surface he could find.« Dr. Whitman explained and as he caught Sam’s shocked gaze now that the younger Winchester turned around to face the man beside him, he cleared his throat. »He said that he did this to make the voices stop.«

Sam could feel his heart drop all the way from his chest down to the highly polished linoleum floor where it proceeded to lie as a bloody little lump of muscle and flesh. Dean was much worse than he had even thought and as Sam dragged a hand over his sleep-deprived face, he couldn't help but blame himself for not intervening earlier. He shouldn't have left his family just like this. He should have taken Dean along with him. He should have demanded for his brother to come with him and leave their father and all of this madness behind. Had he done so, his brother wouldn't be here now. He wouldn't try to hurt himself in slamming his head against a wall or a door because he was hearing voices, he wouldn't be tied to a bed so that he wouldn't be able to hurt himself.

How did all of this happen? What had happened for all of this to get to this point they were at now? What had their father done to his brother? What had this man thought as he had dragged Dean into all of this madness? Then again, Sam had started to read his father's diary. He knew how it had all come to this point. He knew it and yet, those thoughts wouldn't make sense to him. There was no logic behind all of this chaos and desperation. His father had been crazy. He had lost his mind after their mother's death and what little mind he had not lost to that tragedy, he had gladly let the alcohol take away.

And Dean … Hell, maybe he had always been a little too eager to believe their dad’s every word because he had wanted to be just like him oh so very desperately because this was the only way he could have gotten their father's approval. He should have known that something like this would happen. He should have been there for his brother.

It was Jessica who apparently read his mind as she gently put her hand on his biceps to get his attention. Sam hadn't wanted to take her along for this, but Jess had demanded it. She hadn't wanted to leave him alone in a situation like this and a part of him, yes, a part of him was indeed thankful that she was here now. He was even willing to let himself get lead away from the door by her as she gently pulled him to move.

»Voices.« Sam sighed quietly and took a deep breath. »He hears voices now too?« His voice was vibrating with anger as he looked at Dr. Whitman, but it was Jess who calmed him again as she put one of her thin arms around him.

»Sam…« She breathed but apparently, she didn't know what to say except his name because she didn't continue.

»I should have been there for him. I should have called him more often and talked to him more. Maybe … maybe…«

»Sam, it's not your fault. No one could have known that it's that bad.«

»Mr. Winchester, I have to agree with Miss Moore here. You couldn't have known how bad your brother's situation really is. Even I was not aware of the severity of his condition after my first conversations with your brother that he was this troubled.« Sam already wanted to say something, but before he even could, the doctor continued. »Had I known how bad his delusions really were, I hadn't encouraged his friendship with Jimmy in the first place.«

»Who’s Jimmy?«

»Another young patient.« He sighed. »Jimmy came here five months ago. The police actually brought him in. He has no recollection of his life prior to this - or so he says. However, what ultimately brought him into my care was the fact that he thinks he is an _Angel of the Lord_.«

»And you thought it would be a good idea that my brother befriends someone who thinks he’s an angel?« Sam huffed. He didn't want to attack Dean’s doctor and  he didn't wish to pick a fight or question his abilities and yet he couldn't help but ask these kinds of questions - not when his brother was involved and not when the doctor’s decisions might threaten the progress his brother was making, or should be making.

As Sam had brought him here, he had been crazy, yes, but he had not been crazy enough to be thrown into a padded cell for crying out loud! And he hadn't heard voices or felt the need to hurt himself to make the voices stop!

»In hindsight that might not have been the best choice of action.« Dr. Whitman finally agreed, though very reluctantly at best. »Yet, your brother seemed to have a calming influence on Jimmy. He was the first person Jimmy opened up to, except for me, of course. And your brother seemed to be calm and comfortable around Jimmy as well. I realize now that this might have been a mistake.«  

»Better late than never, huh?« Sam huffed and this time he was not able to even remotely hide his annoyance with the doctor. And once again, it was Jessica’s ever calming presence which managed to get him to relax again as she gently squeezed his shoulder. »How long will he be in there?«

»That depends on his condition, I'm afraid.« Dr. Whitman replied. »Your brother had a serious breakdown after what happened in front of this bar.« It would be a miracle would this woman, Miss Masterson, not press charges against his brother this time. She would be a saint would she not try to get justice after Dean had escaped this place just to try and kill her and this time, maybe he would have succeeded too had the police not been there so quickly. Would he be in her place, he would sue the crap out of this facility, it's lax security measures and of Dean perhaps too. Even he himself just craved to sue this place for allowing his brother to escape that easily. Then again, Sam was acutely aware that Dean was far from being stupid and that he was a master when it came to breaking out of certain places or picking locks.

»How is the other guy? Jimmy, right?« He didn't care for this lunatic who thought of himself as an angel and yet it was the polite thing to ask he guessed, even in a situation as stressful as this.

»His condition is much better than that of your brother. However, he will not be allowed to be around the other patients for at least a few days to calm down.« He seemed uncomfortable talking about Jimmy and so, Sam decided not to press on any further. He had other things to take care of anyway and Dean’s newly found presence in his life was not making his life as a college student any easier.

He felt bad for leaving Dean behind as he and Jess finally left the hospital, despite Jess’ comforting words and calming hands on his shoulders or on his hair. He felt like the worst brother in history, even worse than Cain, for crying out loud and yet, what was he supposed to do? He couldn't linger about in front of Dean’s room and just watch him, right? Dean was in the care of capable hands, despite what happened last night and Sam … He still had a life of his own, right? Even in his head, this sounded incredibly selfish. And yet, as he told Jess about this during their drive back, she gently brushed a hand through his hair.

»Sam, you are not selfish for feeling the way you feel.« She comforted him as the Impala - Dean’s Impala - drove down the country road. »It's not your fault that Dean threw his life away like this or that your father made him do it. _You_ still have a life, Sam. _You_ still have a future. You need to take care of your own life before you can help your brother straighten out his.«

She was right and Sam knew that she was. It was common sense and yet it felt incredibly wrong and selfish. Dean had always been there for him. No matter how much he had liked to deny that this was true, no matter how often he had tried to diminish Dean’s good influence on his life and his upbringing, he knew that his life would look a whole lot differently had Dean not been there or had Dean not taken over the role of a father figure to Sam. It had taken him long enough to realize that his brother had been more than just an older brother and that he had done more than normal older brothers would do.

As a child, he had not been able to see that. Even as he had left _home_ \- whatever that meant - he hadn't realized that Dean was more than just his brother. He hadn't realized how much Dean had given up for him and how much he had done to ensure that Sam would have all the chances in life. Had it not been for his brother, he might never have gotten the chance to go to college. His father would have tried dragging him down the same path as he had Dean and maybe he would sit beside his brother in a padded cell then.

As he arrived back home and parked the Impala in the same spot Dean had stolen his car from during the night, Jess quickly left for her shift at the store and Sam was unable to decide on what to do next, standing in his kitchen. He felt restless and uneasy and yet he knew that there really was nothing he could do or had to do. Dean was safe. Dean was in capable hands. Dean was being taken care of. And he, Sam, would continue his life like he had before, right?

That was the least he could do.

Right as he was about to go back to studying, however, his phone rang and Sam was almost glad that it did. Hell, who was he kidding? As if he would be able to focus on his studies after last night! So, without much hesitation, Sam picked up the phone without looking at the number shown on the display. It was probably just one of his friends - or the police. Even thinking about it gave him the chills.

He hadn't expected the voice he got to hear next, though, and he couldn't deny that he felt his heart sink a little at its sound coming through the telephone as loud and clear as if that ghost of his past would stand right beside him. »Sam? It's Bobby.« He felt like his non-existent rug was pulled from under his feet. Bobby. Bobby Singer. Just another phantom from his past coming back to bite him in the arse and destroy the life he had been building for himself here in Stanford. It was as if none of them, not Dean nor Bobby, were willing to let him have his peaceful, normal life! And yet, hearing his voice now, that deep rumbling tone he had grown up with, he couldn't help but feel _safe_. As odd as it might be, suddenly, like a lightning bolt hitting him, he felt a surge of warmth and safety rush through his entire body like a scared child who saw the face of its mother after a particularly frightening nightmare or after getting lost in the shopping mall.

»Bobby?« He breathed and clung to the kitchen countertop in front of him like to a safety buoy. »Hey … How are you? Is everything alright?« He wanted to say something like ‘I haven't heard from you in years’ or something just as stupid but he bit the inside of his cheek instead because he had been the one cutting the cord and losing all contact to his family and Bobby all these years ago. He didn't even know where Bobby had his number from! Then again … Dean had even known where he was living now. Surely his brother had given Bobby his address and phone number too, just in case.

»Same old, same old.« Bobby scoffed and Sam could almost see his face as he did in front of him. Uncle Bobby, the familiar face of his childhood, the gruff old mechanic who knew so many different things about the world and who was just as crazy and paranoid as his father and Dean. »Sam, I’ll cut straight to the point. I guess you have better things to do than talking to an old drunk like me.« This actually hurt a little. Was this how Bobby saw him now? Like that fancy college kid that thought he was better than those who raised him and gave him the chance to go to college in the first place? »I haven't heard from Dean since … Well, for a while now.«

»You mean since Dad died.« Sam interrupted him before he could continue acting all secretive towards him although Sam already knew what he was on about. A part of him, however, wondered if Bobby would have told him about his father's death, would Sam not brought it up himself already. Would he have done it or would he have left Sam in the dark?

»So you know.«

»Yeah, I know. Dean told me.« There was a sigh of relief on the other end of the line. Well, Bobby had always favored Dean.

»You talked to him?« Bobby asked before he quickly continued. »Well, I'm glad to hear that he told you. Since he left my place after John's funeral, I haven't heard as much as a peep from him. I was starting to get worried, you know? When did he call you? Did he say anything about where he was or what he was planning to do? He doesn't answer his phone.«

»That's because he is not in possession of his phone right now.« Sam replied quickly and couldn't help but feel a certain sense of irrational anger boiling up inside of him. Of course, Bobby would call him to ask about Dean and not about him and how he was doing after years apart. He guessed that Bobby actually had his address and number for quite a while already. It wouldn't be like Bobby not to know how to reach him - after all Dean had known his whereabouts too. And yet he only called now that Dean was missing as far as he was concerned. »He was here, actually.« That was when Sam started to tell Bobby the entire story of how Dean came to his apartment, how he attacked that poor woman and landed his ass in the psychiatric hospital, how he escaped with his angel buddy and where he was now. He couldn't say that he felt good telling Bobby all of this and as he ended his little story time, he expected the storm that was coming his way even before it came. It had been inevitable from the start, after all.

»You're telling me, that you committed your own brother to a mental asylum?« He could hear the tremble in Bobby’s voice as he spoke and quite obviously did his best not to scream at Sam while he did so.

»I had no other choice, Bobby.« Sam sighed because, no, he would not take the blame this time, he would not be treated like the black sheep of the family who had committed some atrocity against his own flesh and blood. »And really, before you start giving me shit, I would really like to know where _you_ were the entire time? I mean how could it even get to this point, Bobby? How could you allow our dad to drive my brother to this point? How could you just sit back and watch how my brother lost himself in these crazy fantasies? Monsters, Bobby! _Demons_ ! Are you fucking kidding me? Why didn't you do anything in those past years to help Dean if you're _so_ worried about him?«

There was a moment of silence on the other side that left him unsure if Bobby had actually just walked away from the phone to slam his face into the nearest brick wall or something along those lines. As the reply to his words came, it was colder than he was used to from the one person who had been more like a father to Sam than his own father. »It's one thing, Sam, that you never believed in those things - but not believing in your brother, committing him to a mental hospital, is something quite differently, even for you.« His tone was low and almost threatening now as he was verbalizing his anger and disappointment quite effectively only through the medium of his voice and without Sam having the chance to actually seeing his face. Maybe it was better like this because otherwise, Sam wouldn't have been able to hold onto his anger. »I can't even put into words how disappointed I am, Sam. The level of ungratefulness you portray baffles me truly.«

»Ungrateful?« Sam erupted immediately with such a ferocity as if he had waited years and years to finally explode. »What should I be grateful for, Bobby? Tell me! Fucking tell me already! For a father who left me and Dean alone with no explanation other than that he was hunting monsters when in fact he just got drunk in the bar around the corner or to bang random women that he would meet in those bars? Should I be grateful for the fact that my father did everything he could to avoid being with us? Or should I be grateful that I never had a home? That I spend my entire life in this fucking car that Dean loves so much? Should I be grateful for a brother who was my father's perfect little sockpuppet and did absolutely everything that dad ordered him to do? No, Bobby, I’m done being _grateful_ for the fucked up life I had with you guys and your crazy delusions of monsters and saving the world. I have a life, Bobby! A real life with real people and real friends and real goals! And I will not let anyone destroy this again, not even my brother!«

It wasn't like him to just hang up on other people when talking to them on the phone and yet, that was exactly what he did now as he ended the call and all but threw his phone on the counter in anger. He was boiling with unfiltered rage and he knew that Bobby had said exactly the things he had been most afraid to hear. An injured animal lashed out, he guessed. Almost he felt guilty and embarrassed a few minutes later. Bobby had always been like a father figure to him and Dean. Well, more to Dean than him, but still. He had been there. Bobby had been one of the very few good things in their lives. He had been the only adult that really took care of him and his brother. Without Bobby they would have been lost completely to their father's delusions. Bobby had been the only thing protecting them from being swallowed by the horrors of his father’s mind.

Yet, Sam had decided that it was appropriate to treat their guardian angel Bobby like a doormat.

A part of him wanted to get the phone back and apologize. He wanted to tell Bobby that he was sorry and that he didn't mean it like that and yet, instead, Sam turned away from the phone and strolled to the sofa where his bag was lying with his father's diary poking out. He didn't even know why he still had it and why he hadn't put it back into Dean's duffel bag yet, which was in the trunk of the Impala after the events of last night.

The words inside this diary were those of a madman. He should probably just burn it so that his father's madness could never taint Dean’s brain again after he would get out of the asylum. The diary had started out reasonable enough, he assumed. His father had started working on it right after his mother's death, reporting in detail about what he had seen that night, or, how Sam viewed it, what he _thought_ he had seen. The truth was, his father had fallen asleep in front of the television after a few beers that night so how believable were his words after that really? And, of course, what his father had written down was exactly what Dean believed had happened. Their mother burning on the ceiling of Sam’s nursery, gutted like a fish, her blood dripping on Sam’s forehead. It was complete and utter nonsense but Dean had lapped it all up, eager to believe their father like he had always been.

Sam didn't know much about his brother from before their mother's death. He didn't know what Dean had been like or what he would be like had their mother never died. The Dean that Sam knew had done everything to make their father proud and do as he was told. If their father would have told Dean that aliens existed and were responsible for their mother's death, Dean would have believed it too. Unlike Sam, Dean had always believed whatever their father had told him and never dared to question him in any way. Sam, on the other hand, had always known when their father had been lying to them and when he had been full of bullshit. He had known when their dad had wasted all their money on alcohol and gambling instead of food and came up with some ridiculous explanation as to why they had to live off cornflakes for a week until he had managed to earn enough money for food again.

Sometimes, when he would think about his big brother, Sam was not even quite sure if Dean even knew who their father really had been or what _kind_ of man their father had been. Dean had always just seen this proud, strong soldier who taught him all the cool stuff about guns and cars and hunting and didn't care too much about Dean’s academic education. Dean had never been able to see that their father had never cared too much about his education because, in his eyes, Dean had always just been the blunt tool he could use in this war of his against the monsters inside his own head.

He sat down heavily on the sofa again and pulled his father's diary out of his bag after a few moments of hesitation to open it where he had last closed it and resume his reading. Maybe he should show this book to Dr. Whitman, as soon as he was done reading it, Sam mused and yet, somehow this diary was something so intimate to him and his family, that he never wanted anyone outside their family to get a hold of it. He almost laughed at this thought. _Family_ … What family?

※※※※※※※

Before his eyes, all Dean could see were the drawings in Castiel's room. He could see the faces of angels blindingly bright right in front of him, promising him to help him and keep him safe, their wings wrapping around him in a tight feathery embrace. He could feel their feathers on his naked skin, burning him with their warmth and scorching his flesh to leave marks all over his body like the memory from an old and long forgotten dream.

The feeling wasn't unpleasant. He felt safe in the embrace of the angels, he felt like he was kept from falling apart further and further, as if, for a moment longer, he would be able to remember his own name while he could see the word Nightmare float in the world around him in his peripheral vision deprived of a sheet of paper or a sign. Just the word, the letters floating in the air, taunting him without saying much more.

»You know that you can't hide from me forever. You know the angels can't keep you safe. You know they are not going to hide you from me.« And just like the word, the voice was back, that demon that was hovering beside his bed, never leaving his side, mocking his inability to fight back. »Nobody ever will. Your father couldn't protect you from me. Bobby couldn't protect you from me. Your brother will not even try to protect you from anything. Lets face it here, Deanie, shall we? Sammy is glad that you are here now, locked inside a padded cell from which you cannot escape despite all your cunning and everything your father taught you. Sammy enjoys seeing you at your lowest point. Sammy doesn't care about you. Sammy has the life he always wanted and you are just a stain on his perfect life that he will remove for good. You will never get out of here. Sammy doesn't want you in his life. He hates you just like your father has always hated you. I mean how could you be so blind, Deanie? Your father doted on Sammy but you, you were just his puppet. _You_ he would beat to a bloody pulp and still you would come crawling after him desperate for his love and approval like a beaten little dog starving for attention and love. You never saw that you could never be the man he wanted you to be.«

The voice was like acid, burning it's way through Dean's brain mercilessly with no way of escaping it. A part of him knew that it was just in his head, that none of this was real and yet, how could he possibly escape the demon lingering in the corner of his room? Even when he closed his eyes, the demon stayed where it was, laughing, grinning, staring at him out of pitch black eyes, wearing his own face and speaking with his own voice. There was no way of escaping this thing, no way of ignoring it either.

»You're not even really here…« Dean breathed and could hear his voice hitch in his throat as he spoke. »You're not here. You're just a part of my imagination. You're gone as soon as the drugs will wear off and I'm free again.«

»Maybe« The demon chuckled. »But that's the point, isn't it? You're never going to be free of me ever again. You'll stay in this room for the rest of your miserable little life and there is nothing you could do about it. Your father would have never landed himself in such a dire situation. But you and me, oh, we will have a lot more time together. And Sam … He will forget about you. Ol’ yellow eyes will find him and when he does, there’s nothing you could do to protect him.«

He squeezed his eyes shut desperate for a way out while he knew that there was none. There was no way out for him. The demon was everywhere. He was in his head and he was everywhere he would try to run, always lingering in the back of his mind, always hovering in his peripheral vision, never quite close enough to grab him but always just within arms reach. There was no corner of his mind untouched of that thing, no place he could turn to to avoid him. Every good little memory had already been torn apart by the demon and tainted with black goo.

»Do you even know how pathetic you are, Dean Winchester?« The demon all but purred and Dean could feel him drawing close again even as he held his breath. »You're not even a man, Dean. A real man would have told his father to go to hell after everything he put you through. A real man would not have cowered at the sight of his daddy in fear. A real man would have stand his ground. A real man would not have hid his true self from his mean ol’ daddy. You could have run away like Sammy did as you turned eighteen. Your brother was always braver than you were. You could have gone with Sam too - but let's be honest here, Deanie. You didn't stay with your daddy because of Sam. You could have run after he left, if that would have been the case. No, you always knew that there was nothing out there for you except the life your father has shown you. You always knew that you are not as smart as your brother, not as capable or promising. The only thing you can do is kill. Let's face it, Dean: You're a psychopath. A killer. You are just one more monster in this world. You are hardly better than the things you hunt. And all of this just to please your daddy. All of this just so that daddy would love you and forget about what you really are. Oh how much you reveled in his praise. How much you loved those pats on the back when you killed something or came home later after hooking up with some girl you didn't even know the name of. You wanted to be just like daddy, right? And no way in hell would your daddy ever have accepted a fag as his son. We both know he would have beaten you to death had he ever found out.«

It was true. Even in his condition he could recognize this and maybe that made it just all the more worse now. The demon was speaking the truth and Dean would rather have him be a liar.

»And the worst of all of this is that you killed your father, Dean.« The demon hissed right beside him, whispering into his ear like the snake in the Garden of Eden, tempting him to lose the little rest of his mind that he still clung to oh so desperately.

»I didn't kill Dad.« Dean managed to groan out through his teeth but even that cost him so much effort and strength.

»You killed him and you know it. If it hadn't been for you, he would still be alive.« He didn't want to think about his father. He forced the memories of this night out of his mind, pushed them out like they were a physical thing. »And this angel of yours is not gonna help you either now, Dean.«

Castiel. The thought of him managed to bring a little bit of warmth back into his cold body and he didn't even know why and he didn't wish to think about it either. He was tired of thinking all together. He could feel his own identity slip away from him slowly and the thought of Castiel didn't help. Yet, the deep blue eyes in his mind calmed him. He needed to survive this. He needed to get out of this cell and out of this hospital so that he would be able to protect his brother from whatever was going to get Sam. He needed to be strong. He couldn't forget who he was. And even if he really was insane, he would not lose himself in this hellhole. He rather took his own life than accepting to rot away in here.

»My name is Dean Michael Winchester.« He said as loud as he could with his strained and hoarse voice and he could hear the demon laugh. »I was born on January twenty-fourth nineteen-seventy-nine. My mother is Mary Sandra Winchester. My father is John Edward Winchester. My brother is Samuel William Winchester. I am a hunter. I-« He broke off and the demon wasn't the only one who knew why as his laughter only grew in volume now. Dean was sure that everyone inside this building was able to hear the demon laugh by now. »My name is Dean … Michael Winchester.« His head hurt like hell as if it was being sawn open by an unseen force. »My name is … My name is Dean … Michael Winchester. I was born  January twenty-fourth nineteen...«A groan left his throat deep and guttural like that of a hurt animal. He started to lose focus again. He could feel his identity slip away. He could feel how his memories started to slip right through his fingers like water and he was desperate to hold them in the palms of his hands. »Nineteen … Seventy? _No, that's not right_. I was born January … January…«

Castiel’s calming blue eyes were right in front of him as he forced his eyes open again. He was almost sure that he would be able to touch him, if would he be able to move at all. His hands were tied to the bed and so were his feet and in this moment, there was nothing Dean feared more than drowning in this endless plains of snow that were his world now while the demon was still there, watching.

****

**-End of Chapter 9-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3


	10. Chapter 10

He didn't know how he felt about sitting in this room full of crazy people and waiting for his brother to meet him. If someone had told him years ago that this would be what his life would look like, he wouldn't have believed them. He had always known that his brother was a lost cause and that his father's bad influence on Dean would sooner or later destroy his older brother completely, but he had never imagined meeting his big brother in such a place anyway.

Four weeks had gone by since he had first been in this hospital. Four weeks of his brother staying at this damned place. Today was the first time that Sam had scooped up the courage he needed to actually visit his brother after the last time he had been here and had seen him in this padded cell. He couldn't claim that he would be proud of himself in any way for leaving his brother here and not even visiting him. However, he had had things to do! Tests to write, homework to hand in, things to learn, and lectures to attend. Not to mention his day job that he needed to pay for rent and food! His life was a busy one and despite everything, Sam was sure that his brother would understand this. Even in his condition, Sam was certain that Dean would understand.

After reading his father's diary, Sam started to get a better understanding just how much his brother had given up for him and his sake so that he had been able to grow up the way he had. Without Dean, he would have never had the chance to go to college and that, Sam was aware of. Still, this didn't change anything now, right? This didn't change anything about the fact that his brother was delusional and outright crazy. Well, no. Not crazy. He didn't want to use that term for his brother any longer and he shouldn't either. Four weeks had gone by and Sam had started to come to terms with the reality behind Dean's crazy behavior. His brother was a paranoid schizophrenic with a narcissistic personality disorder and religious psychosis. That was what Dean was and it helped to call it by its name to understand it. Giving the monster a name, helped to deal with it. Taking the uncertainty out of a situation, helped to deal with it.

Still, calling it by its name did not make it any easier for Sam. This was all their father's fault. Every little aspect of Dean’s illness was his father's fault and he hated the old man for it even more so than he had in the beginning. He had been heartbroken at first as he had truly understood that his father had died without giving him the chance of reconciliation first but now, that a little time had passed, his sadness had turned into an even deeper-seated anger towards that selfish bastard.

Luckily, there were not many people around in the visitation area and with a little luck, he would be allowed to go on a walk with Dean even. It was summer, June, and the weather was nice out there as a look through the large french windows n his left-hand side allowed him to gather. The park of the hospital looked nice enough as well and maybe it would benefit his brother getting a bit of fresh air. Though this visitation room was not as dreadful as the ones he had seen on TV in various movies about asylums or jails, it was still no competition for the beautifully designed park that was waiting outside.

Yet, Sam had been impressed just how nicely this room here looked. As he had tried to imagine it, he had seen a row of tables sitting mere inches apart from each other, too close to talk in privacy but that was not at all the case. The room was apparently one of the oldest in this building, the white walls decorated with beautiful plastering in the shapes of flowers along the walls leading up to the high ceiling, the floor was solid and highly polished wood, the chairs comfortable and the tables tiny and strewn all over the room with no clear structure. A few plants gave the room a bit more life, just like the paintings that were hung on the walls. The person who had led him here had explained to Sam that these paintings were actually made by the patients, like most of the paintings he would see inside the hospital. At first, Sam had not been too keen on the idea but now that he found himself staring at one of the paintings, he was oddly fascinated by the idea and couldn't help but wonder how a painting of Dean’s would look like. In here, that much was certain, only hung the more pleasant ones. Still lives and vases with flowers.

A painting by his brother would probably show the darkest pits of hell and deprivation if anyone would ever make the mistake of giving him a paintbrush and free reign over a canvas. However, as Dr. Whitman had put it during the little conversation they already had today, Dean had started to get a little better in the past two weeks - but that only after a very serious breakdown and two weeks of utter madness inside the padded cell.

As the door was opened from the outside, Sam immediately rose from his spot at the table in the corner to watch how his brother was being led inside by one of the nurses. He could see how Dean quickly scanned the room before laying his eyes on Sam but if he was glad to see him, it didn't show on Dean's face. He just walked over to his table with not even the hint of emotion showing on his face as he did. Sam hardly recognized his brother. He looked pale and haggard and as if he hadn't slept in weeks judging by the dark circles underneath his eyes. Wasn't he even a bit thinner than Sam remembered him to look? At least the horrible wounds that Dean had sported as they first met four weeks ago, were healed by now. Still … He looked sick as he sat down in front of Sam. The nurse stayed behind at the door and Sam felt a little uneasy by the way the man stared at him from across the room as he forced a smile at his brother.

»Hey, Dean.« He smiled but his own voice felt heavy. He was starting to feel sick seeing his brother like this and for the first time in quite a while, Sam started to think just how many drugs those people were administering to his brother to make him obedient like this. »How are you?«

»Since when do you care?«

He should have expected a reply like this and yet it pulled the invisible rug from under his feet as he finally heard it from his big brother who had always been so understanding. Dean had always been on his side no matter what and to hear him talk like this to him … Well, it actually hurt. And yet Sam was aware that this was long overdue. Still, it hurt and Sam knew that this was only the case because it was true. If it weren't true what Dean said, there would be no reason as to why that one hurt like a bitch. Because, yes, he had never actually cared all that much about his brother, had he? He had always loved his brother, always looked up to him and wanted to be like him for a big chunk of his life while growing up and yet, he had never actually cared about Dean. Had he cared for Dean, he wouldn't be here now. Had he cared more for his brother, he would have gotten between him and his father. Had he cared more for his brother, he would have forced Dean to come with him and leave their dad. But he had always rested assured that Dean cared for him instead and that there was no need for him, the spoiled brat, to reciprocate that very same amount of care.

He breathed a heavy sigh as he leaned forward on the table and brushed a hand over his face. Still, Dean's expression remained calm in the face of his younger brother’s defeat. If this was a win in Dean’s book, his brother was actually quite amazing in not showing even the slightest hint of satisfaction. He couldn't even say if Dean was really unfazed by all of this or if this was just the effect his drugs had on him. »Dean, listen … I understand now that I was not exactly a good brother to you.« He finally admitted as he raised his eyes at his older brother in the same way he had done as a child when Dean had still been taller than him and he had been forced to look up at him through his bangs. Was he hoping that his puppy eyes would actually help him to get away with what he had done? »I get that. And I get that you are angry at me now. But I just-«

»You want to _help_ me, yes, I know. I've heard that a million times by now, so just save it, alright. If this is what you tell yourself to feel better over putting me into this hellhole, then just keep telling yourself that.« Dean looked almost too comfortable as he leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms. He looked almost like a man who was just where he wanted to be, comfortable in his own madness and chaos. This was Dean’s kingdom and the chair he sat on was his throne. If this was hell, as Dean called it, then clearly, he was the King of Hell. »I hope that lets you sleep better at night while there are people out there dying and getting hurt because I'm in here and not able to help them and their families.«

Delusions of grandeur. That was what Dr. Whitman told him too. Yet, it wasn't Dean's fault, right? Sam could still remember how Dean had first told him about their father's work and how he had assured Sam that their father was a superhero. Of course, someone like Dean wanted to be like that too. A hero and not just some random dude that dropped out of school and had around six bucks to his name. »Yeah, I guess you always had a hero-complex, huh?« Sam sighed. »And to me, you always were a hero too.« He admitted quietly with a small smirk. »I remember how I used to be afraid of the Joker from the Batman Comics - but then you declared that you were Batman and, all of the sudden, I felt safe again. I wasn't afraid of the Joker anymore, as long as my big brother was Batman and there to beat him up if he would ever come for me. I wished I had seen it sooner, Dean. I wished I had done something earlier. I wished that I had been there for you more as you needed me to be there.«

»Maybe you shouldn't have left us to go to college.« His brother scoffed and it was clear by the way he sat there and his tone of voice how desperate he was to make Sam feel at least a little bit bad for putting him into this situation if nothing else.

»We both know that you aren't really angry that I went to go to college, Dean. That’s just something you can spout at me in anger more easily. We both know that it was only because of you that I had even been able to do that. You made it possible for me to achieve that, not Dad, nor anyone else.« Now it was Sam who leaned back in his chair, challenging his brother silently as he crossed his arms. »And I’ll always be thankful for that, Dean. But you never wanted me to leave you with Dad and now, after I've read his diary, I understand why.«

»You understand nothing, Sam. You didn't know Dad.« No matter how buzzed his brother might be from the pills that were shoved down his throat every day, at least there was still this spark of anger in his eyes now that Sam dared to talk about their father like that.

»Is this true, Dean? Do you think _you_ knew Dad then? The real John Winchester?«

»At least I knew him better than you do. After all, it was me who stayed with him and who fought his fight with him. You were too busy doing your own thing. You were too busy not believing us and calling us crazy behind our backs. You don't even know how much it hurt Dad as you left!« They had entered a minefield and Sam was very much aware how dangerous each of his steps could be now. One misstep and this whole thing would blow up in his face.

»He told me if I would go I better not come back, Dean. For Dad obedience was the only thing of value! He expected us both to obey him no questions asked and why shouldn't he expect anything less after you made it so perfectly easy for him? Do you really think I never saw the way you were treated at home? Do you really think I never saw the bruises? Or the way he grabbed you? No, Dean, you were never a good son - you were just scared shitless of our dad and that was why you stayed behind.«

»You don't know what you’re talking about, Sammy.« Dean scoffed but the ghost of fear that settled on Dean's face shortly, didn't escape Sam. »You almost sound like Dad abused me. But sure, go ahead and keep telling yourself that if that makes you feel better for leaving us - leaving your _family_. I shouldn't be surprised, anyway. That's the kind of fancy-schmancy way you college-kids think when a father disciplines his son or treats him a little rougher. I'm not some little girl, Sammy and I'm sure as hell no beaten little housewife that's too scared to leave her husband. You didn't know Dad if you really think that he beat me or some crap like this.«

»Sure … Sure, Dean.« Sam scoffed. »But you knew him oh so very well, right? Then tell me, if you knew Dad so well, who’s Adam?« A part of him cursed himself already. He had stepped on a mine that had been hidden quite well and now he could almost hear the bomb ticking under his feet. He didn't know why he got so fired up as to ask Dean this. He hadn't wanted to bring up Adam to Dean. Not yet, not in a situation as this, not when his brother was this unstable already and yet, it just slipped him. He was just so fed up with Dean playing the good son, playing the obedient soldier, acting like only he had known their father when in reality, Dean knew nothing about this man.

»What are you on about? I’ve never heard of someone with that name.« Dean scoffed and the confusion in his face was so honest and clear that it almost broke Sam’s heart. A part of him urged him not to tell Dean the truth, not to tell him who Adam really was, not to tell him what kind of man their father had been and yet, the game was on, he had already done the damage.

»He's our brother, Dean.« Sam finally replied after taking one deep breath to brace himself.

»Now I'm starting to think that _you_ are the one who's on drugs, Sammy. We don't have a brother. I would know if we had one.« But even though he tried it with sarcasm and humor, Sam could see that his brother had already been hit hard by the truth of this situation and that there was no going back now.

»Apparently, you don't.« Sam immediately argued back and would the topic not be so serious, it would almost be funny that they were arguing like little kids again. »Apparently, you don't know where Dad went to when he left us alone in some dirty rotten motel room, right? Apparently, you don't know about the weekends he spent in Windom with our half-brother, playing catch and visiting baseball games.«

Dean’s face told him everything he needed to know about the situation. He knew that Sam was telling the truth. »You’re lying, Sam.« It was less of an attack or insult of his character than it was a plea to keep the tiny bit of sanity that he had left. Much rather would he want Sam to have lied about having another brother than this being the truth right now. He couldn't blame him. He had been angry at first too as he found out.

»I'm not, Dean.« Sam replied as calmly as he could. »Let's face it: None of us really knew who Dad was, in the end. He was sick, Dean. He was crazy and it pains me to see that he dragged you down the same road with him. You don't deserve to be here just because our father drove you crazy! We deserved better than him!« He had expected Dean to get angry, yes. He had expected Dean to yell at him, yes. He had, however, not expected that his brother would jump off his chair to leap over the table and tackle him to the ground. He had not expected his brother to physically attack him. It was this moment alone, that Sam realized - really realizes - that underneath the crumbling mask that was his brother, was nothing left except their father's wrath and pain.

※※※※※※※

The world around him was just a rush of motion and voices. Nothing seemed to make sense and his mind was racing a hundred miles per hour leaving him dazed and confused as he tried to keep up. The knuckles of his right hand still hurt like a bitch even after he had been cleaned up and bandaged. He shouldn't have beaten his brother. He shouldn't have attacked Sammy. He didn't even know why he had. All he could recall was hot-seething, blinding rage as he had faced his brother today. He had never before attacked Sam like this. They had fought with one another in the past of course, as all siblings - especially brothers - do, but he had never actually wanted to hurt his little brother as he had today.

It was no surprise that Dr. Whitman had immediately told him off as he had heard of this incident that had occurred earlier this day. As Dean lay on his back on the comfortable bed of his room and stared at the white ceiling above him, he was just glad that he was not back in the padded cells. He couldn't recall much of it, only a dull feeling of absolute and utter distress and madness, but he knew that he wouldn't survive another round in there. He had never understood what people meant when they were talking about madness like they did on TV or the radio, but now he did. Madness was not just how someone behaved in their daily lives or towards the people around them. Madness was a feeling so utterly consuming that it was hard to feel anything but. It was a poison running through a person’s veins with no antidote that could stop it. It was a skin crawling sensation. It was not being in control over one’s own emotions and actions. It was a rollercoaster, a constant up and down, back and forth. It was being thrown around like an old Raggedy Anne doll. It was staring into a complete black abyss and contemplating to jump. It was _l’appel du vide_ in it's truest and most terrifying form. Madness was a living, breathing, horrifyingly, disfigured creature with rows of sharp teeth to attack and bite down with.

He had been a mess as he had been taken out of that cell after a few days that he had spent in it. He hadn't been able to talk, his jaw set tightly, his lips sewn shut. He hadn't slept, he hadn't eaten. And after that, he had just sat around in his room without anything to do. Never in his life would Dean have thought that there might be a thing that could break him so utterly and completely and yet that was exactly what had happened in this padded cell. He had been broken over and over and over again by the demon, by his own mind. The irony that he was his own worst nightmare, did not escape him either.

A faint knock on his door frame made him move his eyes from the ceiling to the open door. He wasn't surprised to find Castiel standing there, looking even thinner and more tired than usual. He looked exactly how Dean felt and there was nothing but sympathy in Dean's heart for the young man as he sat up on his bed while Cas just stood there unmoving staring at him out of his deep blue eyes. He didn't know what it was about Castiel’s eyes, but usually, it would unnerve him when someone would stare at him like Cas did. Cas, however, seemed to look right through his facade when he did and for some reason, this feeling did not even bother him as much as it should.

»So, apparently, I have yet another younger brother.« Dean stated quietly after he placed both feet on the ground and leaned forward onto his knees, hanging his head low as he said it while on the same instant, he didn't even quite know why he told Castiel. He was his friend, he guessed. Then again, Dean Winchester couldn't remember that he ever had a friend in his life and Castiel … He only knew this man for a couple of weeks now and despite the fact that Castiel had no concept of personal space, didn't understand most pop culture references and tried to find a deeper meaning in absolutely everything he came across, compared with the fact that his real name was James “Jimmy” Novak and that he was convinced that he was an angel, Dean didn't actually know a whole lot about him.

Dean couldn't help but feel defeated staring at his bruised knuckles, thinking how his brother’s nose had given the telltale crunch as it broke under Dean’s punch. He didn't know why he felt so sad thinking about the incident or even thinking about the fact that there was yet another kid of his father out there, but suddenly, he felt as if there was just a wave of cold water washing over him. It shouldn't matter if his father had sired another child with another woman. He only had Sam left of his family now. If anything, he should be glad to know that they were not as alone as he had thought they were.

To his surprise, the bed dipped on his left hand side ever so slightly, as Castiel sat down next to him - although the term “next to him” was an understatement, as there were hardly three inches of space between their legs and hips - and just placed his right hand on Dean’s shoulder. It was such a small gesture, such little contact and yet Dean it had an immediate calming effect on Dean that he couldn't explain logically or without sounding even more crazy than he already sounded. It was as if Castiel's touch alone send a wave of warmth through him and he couldn't really help but lean into the touch although he would have jumped up and started pacing around the room under normal circumstances. Then again, nothing was normal anymore. Nothing was like he knew it anymore.

»I assume, you are not happy about this addition to your family.« Castiel said and the way he framed his sentence was just so completely out of place and awkward that it almost made him laugh even.

»No … No, I'm not.« Dean murmured instead as he gazed at Castiel shortly. He felt like a little boy who had been told that he would soon get a younger sibling and had to share his parents love with a second child after he had been the center of attention for the longest time. However, as he thought back to his own childhood, he had always wanted younger siblings.

»Is this new brother not to your liking?« Castiel, though he gave his best to sound like he understood Dean’s turmoil, sounded like he was talking about a toaster.

»I don't even know the kid.« Dean scoffed. »Sam told me about him.« He didn't know why or how Sam knew about Adam, about their alleged brother, and he didn't even know if he cared or if he wanted to know.

»Maybe he lied.« Cas’ reply was swift and whole-heartedly one only a friend would immediately think of.

»Yes, I would love to believe that.« Oh, how much would he love that this would be the case. »But no, Sam would never lie about something like this, Cas. I don't even think he would have told me right now, wouldn't he have been so angry. He knew it would hurt me and I believe he wanted to hurt me today in this situation. We fought and he lashed out on me. Well, I can't hold it against him after what I've done.« Sam Winchester had never been a good liar anyway. He would have become one, had he stayed with him and his father because lying and deceiving people was all the older two Winchesters had a real talent for.

»Would it be so bad having another younger brother? You are clearly and undoubtedly a very caring person, as far as I can determine. Surely, you have enough love to give to yet another younger sibling.« It sounded so easy out of Castiel’s mouth and only made it clearer to Dean how little the self-proclaimed angel understood about the human nature.

»It's not the fact that there is another child of my father’s out there that's bothering me, Cas.« But how would an angel understand this when not even he himself could put it into words? »It's … It's more complicated than that.«

»Tell me then.«

»It's … My dad left us alone all the time. No big deal.« He said shrugging his shoulders and looking down on his fidgeting hands. »He left me in charge of Sammy, no big deal. I never cared because I knew my dad was hunting, that he was a hero and I wanted to be just like him and so I never questioned him or his decisions. Knowing now that … That he left us to be with that kid … to be with Adam and have a nice vacation from our fucked-up life every now and again … Hell, man, that hurts. It really does. I wished it wouldn't hurt as much as it does. But I can't help it. I was always there making sure that Sammy was okay, making sure that my dad was okay. I always had Dad’s back no matter what, always supported him when Samm was throwing a bitch-fit. I was there, Cas, you know? I cooked, I cleaned, I did everything. I wasn’t my father’s son, I was his maid, half the time, his wife, his mother, his nanny - whatever you wanna call it. Yet Dad goes to play catch with Adam. Yet Dad goes to watch a baseball game with Adam. Yet Dad goes and does the things he would never do with me or Sammy no matter how much we would beg him to.« He grew silent for a moment as he noticed how much his voice was wavering already. »It sucks man.« He managed to get out through his teeth. »Learning about Adam today felt … It felt like my dad came back from the grave just to stab me in the back - again. And you know … Sam always acts as if I wanted this life, as if I wanted to be an adult before my time. But all I ever really wanted was to be just a normal child, to have a normal childhood, to worry about school and my first crush or if I would make it into the college of my choosing. But that was not my path and Dad always made that painfully clear. And knowing that there was another boy, another Winchester-boy, out there who had all of this … It sucks.«

He didn't want to show how he really felt and yet, Cas seemed to make it impossible not to. What was it about him that Dean couldn't help but tell him how things really were deep down inside? What was it about Castiel that made him tear down his own walls of defense just like this to tell that angel everything he wouldn’t even tell Bobby or Sammy? Was he just so fucked up already? Maybe he was crazy after all. He wouldn't even be surprised if Cas didn't really exist at all, if he was just a figment of his imagination, something good to balance out all the evil in his life, an angel on his right shoulder to counter against the demon perching on his left shoulder. Still, as the angel put his arm around his shoulders like a wing it felt real.

»As I first came down to earth, I felt the same way.« Castiel explained quietly. »I had a mission. I had purpose and suddenly my powers were gone and I felt … so betrayed. Why would father send me down to earth just to make me lose my grace, my powers, my purpose? Was this some form of torture? Some form of punishment? Haven't I been a good son and loyal soldier all my life? And as I got here, I truly felt like a lost cause, like father had truly forgotten about me. And now … months later … I can't even recall what my orders were anymore.«

»I'm glad you're here though.« Dean admitted quietly. »If it weren't for you I would be sitting in a corner, singing Old Macdonalds and slam my head against the wall.«

»This place should be a place of healing, however, sometimes I can't help but feel that all it does is making everything just worse.« Only now did Dean realize how foggy Castiel's eyes looked up close. His condition got worse. He wasn't eating unless he was forced to. He was losing weight at an alarming rate and it started to show. This body of his was starting to crumble down into pieces and Dean couldn't stand to watch it.

»You need to eat, Cas.« He murmured as he turned his body to face Castiel instead now and placed a hand of his own on Castiel’s left shoulder as he did to turn Cas’s body towards him more. »If you don't start eating again, they will put you back into that cell and start force feeding you again.« His eyes drilled into those of Castiel now. »Please, Cas. Just … For me, okay? I couldn't stand watching you suffer like that again. I have to get better. I have to get out of here. I have to protect Sam. He’s in danger and I can feel that but I need you for that, Cas. I need you to get better too. I need us both to get better and get out of there. You're the only one who believes in me at this point. I can’t lose you right now, okay?«

Dean was unable to tell what was going on with him in this moment. Maybe it was the hospital that was getting to him. Maybe it was his dwindling sanity. Maybe it was all these pent-up emotions that he had held down for such a long time. He couldn't say it. All he knew was that his hand that was resting on Cas’ shoulder raced up to his neck and pulled Cas closer before their lips met in just the flash of a moment.

※※※※※※※

»Sam … I know he’s your big brother … I know you love Dean very much, but he’s gone too far now.« Jessica’s eyes wouldn't leave his face as she was weaving her thin fingers through Sam’s hair, leaning against his side on their comfortable sofa as Sam pressed the ice-pack to his broken nose without so much as a flinch. Surely Brady, his best friend, would have a field day tomorrow when he would see his face.

»I shouldn't have told him about Adam.« He sighed and noticed how nasal he really sounded now. Well, wasn’t that just great? Dean would have a blast hearing him talk like this and without a doubt his brother would shoot one or two comments about his sexuality at him, although Sam was the one with the stable relationship with a woman and Dean was the guy who was so deep in the closet that he would soon find Narnia. »I shouldn't have attacked him like this. I knew how it would affect him. Especially now that he’s … not all there, you know? I don't know what has gotten into me today. I wasn't myself.«

»Maybe you have been _bewitched_.« Jessica humored him and managed even to draw a small chuckle from Sam. Despite the horrid situation they were in, Jessica still found humor in all of this and made it a lot easier for Sam to cope. He couldn't just bury himself in all this negativity. He had to stay strong, not only for himself or Jessica, but especially for his older brother.

»I wanted to thank you, Jess.« He breathed as he turned his body to face her fully and placed one of his large hands on her right cheek. Her skin was almost ridiculously soft and looking into those eyes of hers always calmed him down and made him realize that these were the eyes he wanted to see every morning for the rest of his life as the first thing when he would wake up.

»For what?« She smirked but leaned into the touch gingerly.

»For staying with me, for helping me through this. For having my back.«

»You don't need to thank me for something like this. Hey, Sam, we’re a couple, we’re a team. We’re in this together, right? Your struggles are my struggles. And if your brother needs help, I’ll be there to help you guys go through this.«

She was awesome. There was no denying of that. Jess was truly awesome and he couldn't even begin to understand how lucky he was to have found a girl like her. He knew only one thing for certain and that was that he wouldn’t let her slip away from his life. Jessica Moore was the one true good thing in his life ever since the death of a mother that he could not remember. Maybe it wasn’t fair to think like this, not when he had had Dean who had moved mountains for him if it had been in his power to do so. »It's true what Brady said as he introduced me to you.«

»What did he say?« Jessica grinned rolling her eyes slightly.

» _This one’s a keeper, Sam._ «

****

**-End of Chapter 10-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3


	11. Chapter 11

He couldn't say what had gotten into him. It didn't matter anyway. All that seemed to matter now was the feeling of this very moment and how serene it felt just to lie here, his hands tracing the sides of the person that was on top of him, back and forth, back and forth. He felt like he was melting into a puddle on this mattress as he did so, warmth spreading through his entire body as if he was covered in a pile of blankets or as if a pair of soft, fluffy wings was wrapped around him for comfort and safety. He couldn't do anything but lean into this feeling. He couldn't help but try and catch those bitten, dry and broken lips whenever they tried to get away from him playfully, catching the bottom lip with his teeth to pull it down to his own again, not willing to ever let go of his captive again.

In this moment, it didn't matter that the person on top of him was not a woman, that there was not the softness of a woman’s chest pressing against his, that the hips that were digging into his were sharp and bony and not round and soft, that those hands that were grabbing fists full of his hair at times were not gentle and thin and manicured. All of this didn't matter as Dean found himself humming into the kiss, wrapping one of his arms around Castiel a little more to pull him in even closer - impossible close even, as if he wanted to melt right into this man. Castiel did not seem to mind, instead, he even deepened the kiss as if he himself was hungry for this as if he was starving and needed this kiss to cling to life just a little longer.

A cough ripped him right out of the moment and as he realized that he had not imagined it, he also realized that this was probably not the first time the sound had occurred. »Gentlemen, I really don't want to interrupt anything here. Cheers to you and all of that - but I doubt that good ol’ Pauly will be just as supportive when he comes down the hall to check the rooms and sees that.«

Dean felt like his heart was stopping - or rather explode in his chest as he shoved Castiel off of him right away to scramble back to the headboard as if Castiel was a giant spider he had just noticed sitting on his chest to get as much room as humanly possible between the two of them while he felt his head burning up. Castiel seemed pleasantly unfazed by all of this, even as the janitor leaned in the doorframe and watched the scene unfold further with a small smirk playing on his lips, although now that the moment was broken and the veil lifted, there was nothing that could unfold any further, he guessed.

His heart was still beating fast in his chest, the sound filling his ears and his head, vibrating through the very marrow of his bones as he looked from the janitor to Castiel who just looked utterly confused about Dean’s hasty reaction and the way he had been shoved away. Before he could even begin to say something, however, another pair of footsteps came down the hall and while the janitor still leaned in the door frame, he was joined by Nurse Paul in a matter of mere seconds. The tall figure just threw a confused glance at the duo on the bed before shrugging it off and focusing on Dean instead. He could only assume that his head was lit up like a street sign telling everyone of his current embarrassment. As if he needed any more problems now. »Dean.« He was addressed by the nurse swiftly. »It's time for your appointment with Doc Whitman.«

He almost forgot about it after everything that already happened this day but now Dean was all too eager to jump from the bed and follow the nurse outside, leaving behind a confused Castiel and an amused janitor. Even Paul seemed to notice just how eager Dean was to get to the doctor all of the sudden. It wasn’t like he would be dreading talking to Dr. Whitman usually, but he was never anywhere near as excited as some of the other patients. As he was following Paul now, he honestly was glad to have escaped this situation with Castiel and this realization almost made him pause. Did he regret kissing Cas? He couldn't deny, after all, that _he_ had instigated the kiss. Not Castiel. He. He had been the one grabbing Castiel and pulling him into this kiss. He had been the one who had been hit with the desire to do just that. He couldn't lie and act like this hadn't happened. It wouldn't be fair to anyone either. Not to himself and especially not to poor confused Cas back there.

This time it was Dean who stood outside of the office and had to wait for the doctor to welcome him inside. Enough time to have his mind racing again and annoying him with the thoughts of what had happened in his room - and about the possibility of it happening again. He was not exactly opposed to the idea. Usually, he wouldn't go after a man like he did with Castiel now, but neither were these his usual circumstances nor was Castiel a random dude he just met on the street. Whatever it was about Cas, somehow, Dean felt as if he wasn't able to just stay away and act like nothing had happened. Having his father's words in his mind at all times didn't make it exactly any easier, though. Would he have witnessed this, he would have lost his shit in a matter of only a few seconds and started to beat the crap out of him and Castiel alike, probably.

Well, his father had been an old-fashioned guy, right? He had been in the U.S. Navy, fought in a war … He had every right in the book to be old-fashioned.

When it was his turn to go in, after the door was opened from the inside by Dr. Whitman himself who practically had to escort his other patient, a man named Rob, out so that he would finally leave although he was still muttering something about his mother and was clutching a Raggedy Anne doll close to his chest, Dean shot him a weary smirk before entering the office and walking up to his usual spot on the chair on the other side of the desk while Dr. Whitman closed the door with a deep sigh and was still massaging his temples lightly as he reclaimed his seat.

»Busy day, huh?« Dean huffed. »You look exhausted, Doc. No offense.«

»None taken.« He replied with a faint chuckle. »Well, this job isn't always so easy, Dean. It's more than just sitting around making a serious face and acting as if you would listen to the ramblings of your patients, you know?« Was this a joke? Dean was almost sure that Dr. Whitman really cracked a joke there! Fascinating.

He just grinned as a response as he relaxed in his seat. »So, Dr. Whitman, how are you feeling today?« Dean grinned with mischief clearly playing on his face because of this little role swap there and that even seemed to lighten up the Doctor’s mood a bit.

»Not too shabby, Dean, not too shabby. But more important is how are _you_ feeling today?« Even after four weeks that he had already spent here, Dean was still not used to being the center of attention or being asked how he was on a regular basis. In his life previous to this institute, there had been no time thinking about stuff like this. He had to function and that was all there had been to him. He had been a soldier, nothing more, barely even human.

»Alright, I guess.« He shrugged although they both knew that this couldn't be any farther from the truth even if he would actively try to act like it. They both knew what had happened this morning in the visitation room and though they had already talked about it, though Dr. Whitman had already scolded him for it, Dean knew that he was still not over and done with all of this. Oh no. Dr. Whitman would surely want to talk about it. He was not going to be disappointed.

»Despite what happened this morning with your brother Sam?« Dr. Whitman immediately asked and did not surprise anyone with that question.

»I guess so.«

»Dean, let’s be honest here, alright?« Dr. Whitman sighed. »We already talked about it this morning. I would like to talk to you about what your brother said about this half-brother of yours.«

He had tried to forget about it. He really had tried although he had been well aware that he could not possibly do it anyway. How would he ever be able to forget about what his brother had told him? Not even canoodling with an angel had been helpful in this regard.

»You mean … About Adam.« The name left a sour taste in his mouth, almost like bile and yet he knew that this was just not fair towards his younger brother who probably didn't even know that he existed. »What do you want to know? I mean, hell, that's just as new for me as it is for you, Doc.«

»For starters, I would like to know how you feel about it. I'm assuming that  you believe your brother, Sam.« At least the doctor was clarifying now which one he meant. Wasn't that just lovely?

»Sam had no reason to lie to me - not concerning something like that.« As much as he would love to claim that Sam would have lied to him and that there was no secret family out there, no secret younger brother. Sam was no liar. He had never been one - at least not to Dean. »Well, how do you think I should feel?«

»I think, if I would suddenly learn about a brother I have never heard of before, I would feel angry, confused, sad - maybe even betrayed by my father.« Dr. Whitman offered as he was gently swinging his fountain pen from one side to the other like a pendulum while he talked.

Until now, Dean had refused to really clad his feelings into words. Talking about how it made him feel seemed to make it more real, somehow. Much rather than talking, he would like to rant and rave and throw punches and just be angry at everything because that was, in conclusion, really how he felt, he assumed. »I feel stupid, I guess.« Dean breathed. »And I’m angry. I want to smash something.«

»Yes, I think your anger showed quite prominently this morning as you faced your brother.« The doc replied solemnly. »But let's elaborate on why you feel stupid, Dean.«

He scoffed as he leaned back before he got up from his chair and started pacing through the office as he was prone to do anyway. He just couldn't sit still and after four weeks, he was slowly starting to get tired of lying too. Until now, the progress they had made was only superficial because Dean had not been willing to open up. He still wasn't. He didn't need help, right? He wasn't really crazy, after all! Well … Maybe he was. He had to be at least a little crazy to do the things he did, right?  It only took four weeks for him to start questioning his own sanity, as it seemed. And yet … What was there to lose anyway? Why not open up about his father? If he couldn't break out and run off, he might as well play along, right? No, that wasn't an option. It could never be an option. He had to find another way out but he doubted that he would be as lucky as last time. How big were the chances that someone would forget the window in the stairwell again?

However, maybe he should just throw Dr. Whitman a bone as a sign of good will.

»I feel stupid because I feel like some random chick that got cheated on by her husband with his secretary and believed all his lies about having to work overtime or needing to go on business trips.« He replied gingerly shrugging his shoulders as he did and paused at the window. Outside the day was sunny, but the sun was already sinking on the horizon. Today he would need to force Castiel to eat dinner with him in the dining hall whether the angel liked it or not. Once Dean had already witnessed how Castiel had been taken into a room against his will by the nurses to be tied to a bed and sedated only to have a stomach tube forced down his esophagus and be force fed for days. He had been allowed to visit Castiel last time, shortly after he had been let out of the padded cell. It had been one of the more horrifying things he had ever witnessed and Castiel had been in a permanent state of dozing off, his mind shut off by his strong medication just so that he wouldn't try to fight against the tube or the nurses. He didn't want to see something like that again.

»I think that it's only natural for you to feel this way, Dean.« Dr. Whitman ripped him from his thoughts again and made Dean turn away from the window at last. »You and your father had a very close bond, as far as I'm able to get from the stories you told me about your time hunting with him. Of course, you would feel deeply betrayed by your father for not telling you about your second brother.«

»I just don't understand why he didn't tell me … No, that's not true, I guess. I get it. He didn't want Adam to be dragged into all of this. To him, this second family he had on the side was probably something like an escape from his reality - from us, Sammy and me. With Adam, he probably had what he never had with us since Mum died. Before her death, he was the best father in the world, honestly. He always played with me, always carried me around on his shoulders, read stories to me or tucked me in, even made sure that there were no monsters under my bed - Which is quite ironic, in retrospect, I think.« He trailed off and almost managed to smile at those memories. It was true, John Winchester had been an awesome father. He had been loving and gentle and caring. He had taught Dean all kinds of things, encouraged him to learn and grow on his own terms. He had been there to dry his tears after he had fallen and in his father's arms, he had always felt like there was nothing in the world that would ever be able to harm him. In Daddy’s arms, he had felt save - until the night of the fire and until his world had fallen apart completely. »After Mum died, he wasn't the same man anymore.«

»You loved your father very much, Dean.« It was no question, just a statement that Dean didn't even dignify with an answer or a grunt at least. »And after what your brother told me in the beginning, you always had your father's back. This kind of betrayal has to be even worse because of your unquestioned loyalty towards him.«

»I guess it is.«

»Dean … Let's address it how it is, shall we? Your father left you and your brother alone, living in motel rooms in towns where you were strangers, without protection from the real monsters of this world who could have harmed two adolescent boys like you that were all by themselves in a place where no one cared about them. He dragged you boys from school to school and state to state without the chance of ever forming significant relationships with anyone apart from him and each other - and this Uncle Bobby you told me about. As the good son that you always were to him, you believed your father when he told you that he was leaving for a case, while in reality, he went to be with his other family. Dean, in all honesty, you have to be livid. You aren't just angry, Dean, you don't just feel betrayed. You are livid, you are hurting so badly that you don't even know if you could ever think about your father the same way you used to before you learned of his secret. You feel broken, you feel mucked, you feel played, you feel exploited by your own father!« This time it was Dr. Whitman who got up from his chair to bridge the distance between them and gently grab Dean's shoulders. Dean was almost certain that Dr. Whitman wanted to shake him to get some sense into him. His fountain pen he had left on the desk for once.

»Dean, you can say this. You are allowed to have all of those emotions. Here you can talk about all of this. Here no one will punish you for having real human emotions. Your father exploited you, Dean. Your father took your childhood away from you, Dean. Your father forced you to be a soldier before you even went to elementary school, Dean. Your father made you raise your own brother in his stead. Your father made you forget that you were just a child yourself. You had to be a father and a mother for your brother and a soldier for your father and you did all he ever asked of you. He showed you the ugly side of this wonderful world we are living in and he thanked you in not trusting you, in not telling you about your brother, in exploiting you even further and keeping secrets from you.«

His gut instinct was to shake off the doctor and punch him clean in the face, but even though he would have liked to do just that, he didn't. He couldn't. Dr. Whitman was right and that only made this all worse, somehow. Dr. Whitman was saying exactly what he felt and this only made it harder not to break down right here in this office and confront the pain that was closing itself like his father's fist around his heart.

_You’re such a pussy, Dean Winchester._

The voice inside his head was cruel and sounded just too much like his father for him to ignore it. »Yeah…« He breathed quietly as he turned away from Dr. Whitman again. Even to himself, it was an enigma if his response was meant for the doctor or the voice inside his head. His throat was burning but he refused to have one of those chick-flick moments right now. He would not break down and cry. »It sucks, alright? Yes … Yes, it hurts, I admit it. It hurts like a bitch. I never asked for anything from him except honesty. I wanted honesty and not even that he was willing to give me, so yeah, Doc, you're right, it fucking hurts to know that my father rather took a nice little vacation every once in awhile, a few days off from us and our fucked-up life to be with a brother I didn't even know of until today. And my brother … Fuck … Sammy knew. Sammy knew! He never told me about any of this but he knew about Adam and he didn't tell me! My father went to go play catch with Adam, and Sammy never told me. He left me in the dark all this time and he never called or said anything. He probably laughed behind my back with Adam and Dad because I was the only one who didn't know, who was waiting at some crappy motel for my dad to return and get back to business. It … It sucks. It really, honestly, sucks like hell and I wished my dad wouldn't be dead and burned already just so that I could punch him in the face.«

As Dean later left the room, he couldn't deny that he felt a little better. He felt as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders almost and he hated that this was the case. Here he was, Dean fucking Winchester, the tough guy, the guy who had fought against vampires and werewolves and wendigos and ghosts, the guy who drove a muscle car and listened to classic rock, pouring out his little itty-bitty heart to the doctor like Winona Ryder herself in _Girl, Interrupted_. He didn't want to be so weak. Nobody was entitled to his problems and worries. Nobody was entitled to hear about what was really going on inside his head, or worse, his heart. He wasn't supposed to tell anyone about that. He was supposed to keep it all in and deal with it like a real man would: Quietly and with dignity and a beer or a glass of whiskey. And oh … How he was craving a whiskey right now.

※※※※※※※

This was getting ridiculous, Sam decided as he kept staring at the duffel bag that was again next to his TV on the ground. He didn't even know why he had brought it up here once again after he had taken it out of the Impala. Hell, he wasn't going to lie, having a car to drive to college and work was a nice change of pace at the moment, but it was still Dean's car, still the car he had grown up in. The toy soldier was still in the ashtray of the backseat where Sam had stuck it as a child, his and his brother’s initials were still carved in the deck, and there were still legos rattling in the vent after Dean had jammed them there somewhere along the way. Dean had always loved this car and he too, he guessed. Not to the same extent as Dean, of course, but this car had always been the closest thing to an actual home they had while growing up.

Sometimes, Sam could still remember how happy Dean had been on his eighteenth birthday as their father had for once behaved like a real dad and gifted the car to Dean. This was one of the more fond memories, Sam actually had of them as a family. They had been at Bobby’s and on the morning of Dean's birthday, they had noticed a brand new truck standing in the driveway. Sam remembered how he and Dean had looked at the unfamiliar car from the kitchen window and how he had told his big brother that this was probably his birthday present. He could also recall the smile Dean had mustered at this remark. It had been a sad, almost disappointed one because he had not wanted this shiny new car. How intense had been Dean’s joy and surprise as their father had later told them that this was actually _his_ new car, after they had asked him and Bobby about it, and that Dean could have the Impala if he wanted. His father was not the cheesy type of guy. He would have never outright gifted the car to Dean like a real present, like any normal father would. It had been a thing of convenience, an act more than a gesture. In this regard, Dean and their dad were one and the same person. It didn't matter how it happened anyway. The only important thing was that it had happened and that Dean had been overzealous on that special day.

When all of this was over and Dean would be released from the hospital again, maybe Sam would actually get to see Dean so happy and full of joy as he had been on this day again, even before Bobby had presented him the cherry pie he had baked especially for Dean.

»What are you doing, Babe?« Jessica's teasing voice ripped him from his thoughts after he had finally gotten up from his lazy ass to grab Dean's duffel bag and just empty it out on the couch. »Raiding your brother’s stuff?«

Sam even managed a small chuckle. »No … Well … Yes, I guess. But … I just want to see what he’s carrying around, you know? Maybe give his clothes a wash next time I hit the washing salon so that he gets his stuff back clean and ready for wear when he gets out again…« His brother did not possess many items of clothing. In the duffel, he only had four flannel overshirts, around five undershirts, one spare pair of jeans, a few pairs of socks and at least a decent amount of boxers. It probably sufficed in Dean's eyes and yet … It was ridiculously little his brother had to call his own. The rest of the duffel contained various knives and guns and Sam was well aware that there were much more of this stuff in the trunk of the car, hidden underneath a false bottom. Besides the weapons, Dean actually carried around quite a few religious items as it seemed. For demons, his mind helpfully supplied as he looked through the stuff. There was a Bible for some odd reason, a crucifix and the flacon with holy water that he had tried to use on the poor girl a few weeks ago.

As Jess stepped closer Sam decided to throw Dean's clothes over the backrest of the couch he was sitting on to take care of those later as he heard the sound of something like a chain or necklace falling to the ground and sure enough, as he looked over the backrest, he could see a delicately decorated rosary lying on the ground. Apparently, it had slipped right out of the pocket of Dean’s spare jeans. »Oh.« Was the response his girlfriend produced as she suddenly stopped dead in her tracks right in front of the rosary. »Thats a nice rosary your brother has there. I didn't know he was religious.«

»He isn't.« Sam huffed. »It's against demons. According to the lore, demons can't touch sacrilegious items like rosaries or crucifixes and get burned by holy water.« He gently lifted the flacon at this and waved it at Jess. She only smirked and as Sam put the flacon back in the duffel he held out his hand expectantly. »Could you give the rosary to me? I don't want to lose any of Dean’s things.« He would have grabbed it himself, of course, but Jess stood right beside the bloody thing and although she would usually do so without being asked just because it was common courtesy to do so, she actually took a step back. »Oh, I forgot my straightener! I have to hurry now, Honey!« With those words, she just hurried back into the bathroom from where she had previously emerged and left Sam a little confused but still with a smirk on his face as he got up from the couch to grab the rosary himself. Dean had so little possessions, he didn't want to lose any of them. Yet for a second he wondered if it wouldn't be best to get rid of those religious items.

»You know, if Dean would be here now, he would claim that you are a demon, probably!« Sam called playfully and got only a laugh in response from Jess.

※※※※※※※

His father was an ever-looming dark presence in his life and his dreams. This is how it had always been, this was how it would always be. His father was the monster under his bed, he was the monster in his closet, he was the thing that was going bump in the night, whether he liked to admit it or not. However, as Dean opened his eyes that night, there was nothing but darkness around him. Faintly he could see the full moon through his barred-up window. Only at second glance, he realized that there were no bars at all in front of his window, only a pair of wooden window shutters that were silently rattling in the wind and the twigs of a tree gently tapping against the glass like the knuckles of delicate fingers, asking to be allowed inside. He remembered that sound and that tree from his childhood - but not from his childhood home. There had been no tree in front of his bedroom window in Lawrence, but in front of Sammy’s going _tap-tap-tap_ in the night.

In a rush of confusion, Dean sat up straight on his bed only to realize that he was no longer wearing his hospital get-up anymore but his trusted red and blue flannel and a pair of thick jeans. His old boots stood orderly side by side next to the bed he was lying on and the bed springs squeaking under his movement as he sat up straight and swung his legs over the edge. It was the sound of squeaking floorboards that drew his attention, though.

He stood up with knees like jelly and walked out of the room he was in on socks to not make more sounds than necessary. Even the door was squeaking as he gently pushed it open and found himself in an all too familiar hallway. After the Impala, Bobby’s house had always been the closest thing to a home he had and being here now filled his heart with a certain sense of warmth that could only be conjured up by the comfort of one’s home. Had Bobby broken him out of the hospital without him even realizing it? Maybe he had been so full of drugs that he hadn't noticed it. Maybe the whole hospital thing had been a dream even. Yes, that had to be it. His father wasn't dead. Sam wasn't at Stanford. They were at Bobby’s! Everything was fine! He was safe. They all were.

Dean couldn't help but slowly brush his fingertips over the walls like he used to as a child, feelings the small cracks in the paint and the bumps where the wet paint had run down the wall, as if to make sure that they were indeed real and truly there. They didn't vanish under his touch, they didn't break. They were just as sturdy and trusted as they had always been. As Dean walked down the hallway and reached the stairs, he heard voices from down in the living room. Something felt off as he walked down the stairs. They didn't creak under his steps as they should and the paint on the walls had changed from pure white to more of an eggshell color even though at first he didn't notice it in the dim light of the nightly house. There was light coming from the living room and he could hear the TV running.

The house had changed, as he reached the last step and only then he realized that he had walked past a bunch of framed family photos leading the way up to the first floor. This wasn't Bobby's house at all but it took Dean another moment to realize this. And the voices arguing in the living room … he knew them. He quickened his steps and yet, as he reached the living room door, he hid in the shadows of the doorframe.

Suddenly, he felt like he was four years old again and sneaking through the house when he wasn't supposed to. The teddy in his arms was comforting and soft. _Wait, what?_ As he looked down at himself, he noticed that he was clutching his old teddy to his chest. Had he done so the entire time since he had woken up? It didn't matter, he decided as he leaned around the corner to catch a glimpse of the two people in the living room and sure enough, it was his parents. If this was a dream then why would he dream of this? He didn't remember ever walking down at night to find his parents fighting like this. And yet that was what was happening right now.

And although he was right here, standing only a few feet away from his fighting parents, he couldn't understand a word of what they were saying. All he heard was yelling and screaming but no actual words. It was almost as if they were behind the thick glass wall of a reptilian compound. He could only watch them as they were pacing through the living room, gesticulating widely. His mother's face was red with anger and her long blonde hair was ruffled and unkempt as she attacked his father with a shove to his shoulders that almost made this buff dude stumble.

She was repaid the same way as his father shoved her back and almost made her lose his footing. Dean jumped forward out of instinct, wanting to go between the two of them to help his mother but as he barged into the living room, they were gone. The TV was still on but other than this the room was completely dark and Dean felt horribly disoriented as he just stood in the middle of their old living room now. This whole situation was so absurd even for a dream. And surely it was a dream, right? It had to be a dream. There was no other way.

On the TV there was a football game on and Dean was almost expecting to find his father again lying asleep on the sofa but he wasn't there. For a moment, Dean just stared at the TV and watched the game. It seemed familiar but he couldn't quite place his finger on it. Slowly he turned back to the door leading into the hallway from where he had come now and as he stepped outside, it was as if the world around him was switched back on again like in a haunted house. The moment he had stepped out of the living room, there was a switch turning and Dean grew aware of the sounds coming from the first floor. He could clearly hear a scream, high-pitched and pure terror, something that sounded a lot like his mother screaming his little brother’s name and suddenly, Dean knew what this was all about. This was the night of November 2nd, 1983. His father had fallen asleep on the couch in front of a football game and found Mary later after she had run into Sam’s room. But, as Dean looked back over his shoulder, his father wasn't on the couch and he didn't remember his parents fighting in this night. Before he could think twice about it, Dean flew up the stairs to the first floor and down the hallway towards Sam’s room.

He didn't want to see it. He didn't want to see his mother's death and yet he couldn't stop himself from running down the hallway as he heard Sam cry and his mother scream. As soon as he would arrive at the door, his father would give Sam to him and the room would be aflame already. He needed to be quicker this time. He needed to see all of this himself and with his own eyes. He needed to see the face of the murderer of his mother. He could save her! If he would be fast enough, he would be able to save her!

And yet, as he reached Sam’s room, there was no fire. There was no demon. Sam was screaming his little lungs out and his mother was lying on the floor, blood pouring out of the deep gash in her stomach as she was clawing at the ground in agony. Her eyes fell upon Dean and in a moment of pure terror, Dean realized that she actually saw him, that this really happened. He watched his mother turn on her side and then on her stomach to crawl towards the door but Dean couldn't do anything to help her. He was frozen in place, unable to move or even blink as he stared at his dying mother.

There was no demon. There was no fire. Only the figure of a tall man standing next to Sam’s crib with a bloody knife in his hand. And Dean knew what would happen next now. Suddenly, it was all clear to him. The man would bend down to pick Sam up and give him to Dean and then he would yell at Dean to run outside and the house would catch fire because that was how it had happened.

****

**-End of Chapter 11-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3


	12. Chapter 12

»I stand amid the roar, of a surf-tormented shore, and I hold within my hand grains of the golden sand - How few! Yet how they creep through my fingers to the deep, while I weep - while I weep! Oh, God! Can I not grasp them with a tighter clasp? Oh, God! Can I not save one from the pitiless wave? Is all that we see or seem but a dream within a dream?«

Castiel had always been fond of poetry. He remembered a time in heaven when they hadn't been sure which Apes were going to make it. He had enjoyed the poetry of the neanderthals greatly and secretly hoped that they would survive instead of the homo sapiens. His time down here on earth and especially inside this institution had only fueled his love for poetry ever since he descended from heaven. This morning one of the other patients, Steve, had asked him to read something to him and so, Castiel had pulled out a book of short stories and poems by Edgar Allan Poe, sat down in one of the armchairs and started reading _A Dream Within a Dream_ to him only to notice that it had only taken seconds until other patients had gathered around to listen like he was the only form of entertainment that they could think of.

And only as he ended the poem did Castiel notice Dean leaning against the bookshelf in Castiel's back with a fond little smirk pulling on his full lips ever so slightly. As their eyes met across the room, Castiel couldn't help but mirror Dean’s expression. He didn't quite understand what it was about Dean that was making him almost lose focus on his mission in such an odd way that he seemed to care less and less each day they would spend in here together. It was almost as if his whole identity, everything that he was and should be, was slipping away from him. He had always enjoyed watching humans but even as he had started to live in this place, he had never quite felt something for the people around him. He wasn't one of them. He could recognize their goodness or kindness in the case of Dr. Whitman and some of the more engaged nurses or even the janitor, Mr. Smith. He could recognize if they were shady in some form or had bad intentions. But he had never quite felt an emotional connection to any of them, mainly because he was not supposed to have those kinds of emotions. He was a soldier, one of God's weapons and not a human being with a human heart who would love and hate on a level so deep and intense that it was impossible for an angel to even begin to comprehend.

Then again, the feeling of love was not unfamiliar to him either. He loved his brothers and sisters and yet it was not the same feeling as humans seemed to experience. The only emotion that seemed to come close to that was his love for his older brother Gabriel, who had raised him and taught him, who had looked after the fledglings amongst which had been Castiel, his older brother Balthazar and their little brother Samandriel. But was this the same kind of love that humans felt for their siblings? Was this a love comparable to the one Dean Winchester felt for his little brother? Maybe it was more complicated in Dean's case anyway. He had already noticed that despite the deep love Dean felt for his little brother, that there was a certain sense of rage and anger directed at his brother too and that not only because it was his brother’s doing that he had ended up here.

And yet, as the crowd around Castiel started to dissipate again after he had closed the book as the universal sign that he was done reading and Dean was promoted to come closer, Castiel couldn't help but wonder what exactly he felt for Dean. There was definitely something he felt. This was not simply camaraderie or friendship. It wasn't love either, he assumed. It was, however, a very profound bond, that much he was able to determine for certain. »Hey there.« Dean huffed and by the way he was fidgeting with his hands before he shoved them into the pockets of his loose white pants, Castiel could see how nervous his friend seemed, before he tried it again with the greeting. »Good morning. Did you sleep well?« What an odd thing to ask for Dean. Looking at his friend now and taking in his appearance, he was almost certain that he knew why he asked this.

»I do not sleep.« Castiel replied first, before tilting his head ever so slightly as if this way he could take in Dean's appearance better. »But I can see from the circles under your eyes and the paleness of your skin that _you_ didn't sleep well.« Dean looked, so to say, awful. His eyes were haunted by a truth unspoken as it seemed to Cas as his friend, with a sigh, sat down on one of the armchairs that were close to the one Cas occupied.

»Just a nightmare, no big deal.« Dean replied and though he said that it wasn't worrisome, Castiel could see that it was something that was bothering Dean greatly. He thought about asking him about it, of pressing further, but before he even could, Dean spoke up again and suddenly his eyes were shifting everywhere but to him. usually, Dean had no problem with eye contact. »So … Cas …« He started before loudly clearing his throat. »I wanted to … I wanted to apologize.«

»For what?«

»For kissing you yesterday.« He was quiet as he talked as if he didn't want anyone to hear him. Was he ashamed? Did he worry about what others would think about him? Well, it was not new to Castiel that the human race tended to be a little too concerned with all things sexual especially when the topic was someone else's sexuality. He had never hated anything more than those people who would claim that God hated homosexuals while Cas knew for a fact that his father couldn't care less about such things. »I mean … I shouldn't have done it. We’re friends and I'm not … I'm not-«

»Gay?« Castiel carefully helped and was witness to how quickly Dean’s pale skin could turn a bright red around his ears and the back of his neck while his cheeks somehow barely flushed.

»Yeah.« Dean shrugged before dragging his left hand over the back of his neck - a sign that, as Castiel had learned by now, was clearly signalizing Dean’s current discomfort with the situation. »I'm not gay, Cas. I shouldn't have done it. I don't know why I did. I don't even know … I mean if _you_ are … gay … I don't have a problem with it, is all I wanted to say … and if you're not, I'm sorry that I did this.«

»I have never understood the human obsession of what's between someone's legs or not.« Castiel shrugged. »I have never understood why the humans are so concerned about their sexuality when in reality none of this matters a thing. I mean, is it really that important to you if a person has a penis or a vagina, Dean? Isn't the soul the more important thing? Would you feel the same way and apologize to me, would I be in a female vessel now? It wouldn't change who I am, I'm just curious. I mean, I would still be a male angel in a female’s body so … What would be the difference?« Dean looked at him with utter confusion written all over his face. »What I am trying to say, Dean, is that I did not mind you kissing me. In fact, you might have noticed, that I did kiss you back and although I'm still not quite certain myself why I did that, it seemed the right thing to do at this point and I do not regret doing so. Needless to say, it was my first experience in this regard and I start to see the appeal that you humans seem to see in sex and kissing. I never quite understood why someone would want to exchange bacteria and saliva with another person as to show their fondness for another human being, but I must admit that it did feel nice.«

»Jesus, Cas.« Dean finally breathed and dragged a hand through his hair. He seemed even more uncomfortable than before if that was even possible, although there was also a hint of amusement visible on his stoic face. »You really are an alien, aren't you?«

»I'm afraid I don't understand that reference. It is true that I am an extraterrestrial being, but as far as I understood, there is a difference between the extraterrestrial beings, or _aliens_ , you refer to and someone like me.«

Dean laughed and his whole face lit up as he did. »Whatever you are, Cas - Just never change, okay?«

Castiel just smiled at this as he decided that he should probably take it as a compliment but their comfortable silence that just was starting to establish after this weird conversation, was disrupted as Nurse Paul entered the scene from the nurses desk with the much dreaded clipboard in his hands. »Jimmy!« He called. By now, Castiel was so used to getting called Jimmy, that he didn't even care to correct people anymore. However, he liked it that Dean had never called him Jimmy. He seemed to respect Castiel's name enough to call him by it, even though he might not believe that Cas really was an angel. »Time for your checkup, let's hope you have put some meat on those bones!«

Castiel dreaded his health checkups just as much as any other guy in this place. It was never really good. The only person that seemed to have made progress was Dean, actually. If he wouldn't look like a giant had chewed on him and spat him out right now, he would look actually a lot healthier than as he first came here. Apparently, all the alcohol he used to consume to cope with his father’s death had finally been washed out of his system. He was eating like he had never seen food before, actually putting on weight, working out in their little gym whenever he was allowed to and took his vitamins without throwing what Dean would call a _bitch-fit_. Castiel, on the other hand felt like his vessel was rotting away with each day more and more. He even started to feel hungry and sometimes he would fall asleep, though he would not dream. It was an odd state he was in and he did not like it one bit. He was supposed to be a soldier of God. He was supposed to be strong and resilient and with each day this was being stripped away from him more and more as it seemed. He was only one more weak human in this moment in time as it seemed and with each day he started to become more and more human.

He always got a sense of humiliation whenever he was led into the examination room by one of the nurses with one of those offending clipboards and being told to strip down to his underwear. He knew that it was not meant as a humiliation and that they were just doing their job, that they were just trying to help him get better, and yet it felt like he was placed on a stage in front of a huge audience completely naked, as he was pulling off his shirt and wiggled out of the loose fitting pants with ease for they were slipping on his bony hips anyway. This certain sense of shame he always felt in this room was, of course, a very human thing to feel and Castiel was still not too sure what he should make of this realization.  

He could see his reflection in the large mirror in the room and though he generally avoided looking at his own reflection, Castiel caught at least a glimpse of Jimmy’s body in the mirror. His hip bones were protruding quite prominently by now, a sharp contrast against the thin skin that was stretched over the bone. He almost felt sorry for the way he was treating poor Jimmy even though this was his body now and Jimmy was long gone already. Yet he felt a certain sense of responsibility for his vessel. Maybe he should try eating and sleeping more regularly. Jimmy had not given him his body so that he would destroy it.

»You only seem to get thinner and thinner and soon you'll vanish completely, Jimmy.« Nurse Paul sighed and although he sounded compassionate at first, Castiel couldn't help but experience discomfort by the way he was talking and choosing his tone of voice. Paul, Mr. Paul Atkins, was a meaty man in his forties who was only slightly shorter than Castiel. He wasn't too unfriendly looking, Castiel supposed, although his wild dark hair and the dark beard around his thick jaw, accompanied by dark brown eyes,  made him look a little frightening whenever he was wearing a serious face. It was him who Castiel had attacked a few weeks ago in the middle of the night, even though he still couldn't remember doing so. Dr. Whitman had told him that he had jumped Paul and scratched his face with his short trimmed nails, trying his everything to do as much damage as he possibly could without a weapon at his disposal after Paul had opened the door to check on the distraught patient. Since then, he had tried his best to avoid being alone with Paul. It wasn't just that he felt guilty, but he knew that Paul was not the most forgiving person in the world and he felt uncomfortable in his presence. That he was almost butt-naked didn't make it any easier, weirdly enough.

He shouldn't feel this way, he assumed. After all, did it really matter if he was fully clothed or not? He would feel uncomfortable either way. Being concerned about one’s own nakedness, was a very human thing too, he assumed.

»You know, it's still a miracle to me that a weak-ass pansy like you were able to attack me the way you did.« Paul snickered as he pointed to the healing scratches on the left side of his face that ended right underneath his left eye. A little higher and Castiel might have inflicted serious damage. They were almost completely healed by now, but still visible enough, he guessed.

»I’m still sorry for attacking you … As I said before…« Castiel muttered as he stepped on the scale after Paul motioned for him to do so. His eyes dropped to the display without much interest because he knew that Paul wouldn't be satisfied anyway.

»130 pounds. Well, you lost weight again after last time we had to force feed you, Jimmy.« Paul sighed as he noted down his weight on this much-hated clipboard. »The doctor will not be pleased to hear that, Jim. We wouldn't want to stuff you back in this room again, right? I know how much you hate this.« Castiel bit the inside of his cheeks because there really wasn't anything he could say to this, right? Well, there were actually a million things and yet his jaw felt like it was laced with iron. He couldn't move it. The only thing he felt was the cold air of the room making the hair on his body stand up as chills ran down his spine. He could feel something akin to fear creeping in on him again as he thought about that room. Usually, he wouldn't realize much of the things that would be done to him in there, the drugs were keeping him from doing so and yet he knew the horrors of being tied to a bed, unable to move with a tube stuck down his esophagus. »You should at least add thirty pounds to that weight of yours, Buddy, if you don't want to get back there. Maybe you should start listening to this _friend_ of yours and actually eat the food that is prepared for you.« He chuckled as Cas stepped down from the scale again.

The way he referred to Dean made him shiver and he couldn't tell why that was but as he looked at Paul out of his blue eyes now, he realized the grin that was pulling almost menacingly on Paul's plump lips. They proceeded a little quicker from here on and as Cas was finally allowed to get back in his clothes again after having his pulse and blood pressure checked, he realized just how glad he was for the fabric to cover up his vessel and that he would be able to get out of Paul's reach again.

»You sure had me surprised there, Jimmy.« Paul suddenly addressed him again as Cas had already turned for the door to escape this room. He stopped after having opened the door but turned to look at him again before he would walk out on him.

»What do you mean?« He asked but refused to turn around, so he just turned to look at him over his shoulder.

»Well, I would have never expected you, a God-fearing man as you claim to be, to hook up with another man so quickly. Isn't this supposed to be a sin or something in this Bible of yours?« Paul smirked. »Then again, this whole being a good Christian-spiel of yours is only a pretty bad charade, isn't it? All I see when I look at you is most certainly not a God-fearing man but an ungrateful piece of shit that should rot in prison or in the streets. Instead, you are here where people care for you, where people cook food for you so that you can eat, despite the fact that you are only a filthy little piece of shit who murdered his own family.« He felt his body freeze at those taunting words. »How does it feel having the blood of your little girl and your beautiful wife on your hands, Jimmy? How does it feel knowing what you did while you having fun in here sucking dick?«

He didn't even know what to say. For once, Castiel what at a loss for words as he stood in the open door and stared at Paul with wide eyes in shock of the things this man dared to throw his way. What did he mean he had killed his - _Jimmy’s_ \- family? Just as Castiel could even begin to understand the reality of this situation and form something like a response in his head, there was a knock on the doorframe just next to him and a cheerful voice disrupting the moment. »Hey, Jimmy.« The janitor, Mr. Smith, addressed him and for a second there, Castiel was pretty sure that he had come out of nowhere. Only for a moment, Castiel caught the janitors hazel brown eyes as he smirked at him in that way that was so very true to his whole being as it seemed to the angel, before Mr. Smith turned his attention to Paul. »Hey Paul, Jake said you needed my help?«

Castiel took this as the opportunity he needed to book out of there. He courtly apologized to the janitor as he squeezed out of the door and hurried down the hallway towards his room. Only as he entered his room was he able to catch a break again. He couldn't quite name the feeling that had taken possession of his mind now, but it felt like a sudden rush of panic that he couldn't even explain. He sat down on his bed heavily and only in this moment did Castiel notice something in the right front pocket of his pants. He shoved his hand into the pocket to reveal a candy bar and without much hesitation, he ripped open the packaging and bit down on it.

※※※※※※※

The clean white ceiling above his head reminded him on the night he came down to earth. The world had been covered in snow on this 24th of January, six months ago. He remembered waking up in the middle of this barren field that had been covered comfortably under a thick blanket of snow and how he had stood there for just a moment to get used to this new vessel and his surroundings. He remembered staring at the starry sky, thinking about just how beautiful his father's creation really was. He could have stayed forever in this place, just watching the stars, enjoying the feeling of coldness creeping into his borrowed bones.

And he remembered how, as he had slowly started walking away from the spot he had woken up in, something had hit him. He hadn't walked in the direction of Jimmy’s home, of course. He had wanted to begin his work, wanted to go after his mission, wanted to find … Someone. Someone important. Someone he was supposed to keep from harm and watch over until the right moment would come. The more he tried to remember this night and his mission, the foggier everything got. But he could remember the moment he had been hit by a wave of sheer force and knocked off his feet before the world that he had only begun to see with Jimmy’s eyes, had turned black again.

»Cas!« He jolted up and would he still have his angel blade, he would have probably thrown it at the intruder out of reflex. It was probably good that he was not in possession of a possibly deadly weapon, now that he came to think about it as he stared at Dean who leaned casually in his door frame with a concerned frown playing on his face. Castiel couldn't help but wonder if Dean was aware that even a blind man would be able to look through his usual tough-guy facade. Did he even know how pure and good his soul was? Or how gorgeous he was? Even though Castiel couldn't see his soul anymore after he had lost his grace, he was still able to feel it. Dean’s soul was vibrating in this tiny hospital room and made the air feel warm and gentle like a breeze in spring.

Castiel dragged a hand over his face as the shock from being startled like this slowly fell off of him. Only then he realized that Dean had probably called out to him previously. Before saying anything else, he cast a glance out of the window. The sun was slowly setting outside. It was time for dinner. The wrapper of the candy bar he had devoured earlier crinkled under the shift of weight as he moved his legs over the edge of the bed.

»Hey, Cas« Dean spoke up again as he stepped inside. Cas could almost sense how the hunter wanted to help him get up but apparently didn't know how much bodily contact was okay with another man. He was a weird guy and their conversation from this morning was still in his mind although they had, apparently, spend the whole day apart. »Everything alright, Buddy? You don't look too good.«

»I'm just a little dizzy.«

»That's because you don't eat right - and because you apparently don't sleep, Nosferatu.« By now, Castiel had gotten used to Dean's attempts to humor him and he could hardly ever refuse to smile in response. His jokes weren't even funny - at least not to him - and yet, Castiel didn't stand a chance. »You hungry?«

He wanted to say no, out of instinct, but for once, Castiel decided to listen to his growling stomach. It shouldn't be growling. »Yes.« However, he had a hard time even getting up from the bed and as Dean noticed that, he forced him to stay put.

»Alright, Bambi. You stay where you are and I will go and use my charm to get our food here, alright?« The taller man smirked but though he tried to look unconcerned, Castiel could see the worry in those candy-apple-green eyes.

»How big is the chance that you will manage the same thing twice, Dean?« Castiel frowned as he gently shook his head to get the dizziness out of it. »No, I got this.« With Dean’s help he got up from the bed and although he needed a second to get his head back on straight, he was able to go back to the dining room with Dean. Yet, he couldn't help but flinch as he noticed Nurse Paul keeping watch over the doors as Dean discarded him at a free table and went to fetch their meals.

They ate in silence for a while, which in itself was not too uncommon anyway, only Dean’s worried glances were. Sure enough, it didn't take long for him to break the silence. »So … what's wrong, Feathers? I haven't seen you all day … I mean … If it's because of what I said earlier…«

»It's nothing like that.« Castiel replied quickly. »You know, I never understood the human obsession when it comes to sex or the avoidance of talking about sex in any way shape or form, Dean.« He added. His eyes were burning with tiredness and yet he knew that he would be unable to sleep anyway. »No, my absence had nothing to do with you. I just needed a little time by myself.«

»Oh.« Dean replied and immediately Cas felt that he might have said something wrong. It was always so hard to guess what might strike the wrong chord in these human beings. »Oh. I mean, sure, everyone needs time for themselves once in a while. Hey, I get it.« He winked to play down his sudden surge of nervousness that Castiel could not even begin to understand but that was radiating from him like the heat he was generally putting out.

»I tried to remember what happened to me, that is all.« Castiel finally shrugged between two bites of his dinner. He was aware that he would probably not be able to finish the whole plate but he knew that he had no other choice.

»And you couldn't?«

»No.«

»Why don't you tell me about it?« The question was not meant to be nosy and Castiel could feel that right away and yet, Castiel didn't know if he wanted to talk about that with Dean. A part of himself was resisting the urge to talk as if this was not meant for Dean’s ears when, in reality, Castiel knew that if this was meant for anyone’s ears then it were Dean’s. How he knew that was an enigma to him, though.

»I don't want to talk about it … here.« What was he even saying? As if the location they were talking at was really that important. They were surrounded by people who had lost their minds a long time ago and they too were probably just as crazy. The only difference between the both of them and the rest of the patients was only that they, him and Dean, were still clinging to the belief that _they_ , unlike all the others, were sane. How much longer would it take them to realize that they were just as crazy? How much longer until they would not only start losing themselves to this place but each other? Soon they would be only two more men sitting drooling on the couch in front of the same TV shows over and over, discussing Alien spaceships and gnomes.

»Not here then.« Dean replied with a little smirk pulling on his lips. Cas knew what this smile of his friend meant even after such short a time together with Dean in this place. He wanted to say that he shouldn't get in trouble again just for him, but in the end, Castiel knew that it would be of no help. Dean would do what he wanted anyway. He was much like a pissed off cat that threw his owners coffee mug down from a table just for the heck of it while staring at the owner of the mug mockingly. However, a part of Castiel couldn't help but smile ever so slightly because Dean Winchester was willing to risk his privileges and getting in trouble just for him. He found that fascinating about this particular human being and so, Castiel decided not to say anything about his doubts.

It was already late and the doors locked as Castiel sat on his bed, lost in deep thoughts while he tried to finish another one of his drawings. His motive for today was the Archangel Gabriel as he was shown in the Bible although a part of him was certain that his older brother looked nothing like that. Still, whenever he tried to remember Gabriel’s face and how he had looked, there was nothing. He remembered Lucifer, Michael and Raphael quite vividly, could see them all behind closed lids as if they would stand in front of him when he would think of them, but Gabriel … Gabriel just never came into focus but remained a blurry presence at his side.

He missed him.

Of all the things in Heaven, of all his siblings, his brothers and sisters, his wings and being home, knowing who he was and what he needed to do, he missed his brother Gabriel the most. But Gabriel had left Heaven a long time ago and how much he really missed him had never been more clear to him than it was now that he was lost on earth without a clue what had happened or why, as odd as it was.

Castiel didn't have a clock in his possession and there was none in this room either, but he assumed that it was around midnight as he heard something on the hallway, way too quietly and faintly to be one of the nurses. A part of him decided it was the right moment to become a little concerned, but instead, he decided to stay calm and just wait while his pencil scraped over the paper.

Sure enough, there was a sound at his door and only moments later, his door opened. He expected a nurse to appear in his door, instead, it was Dean with that wide grin of his that was so very much that of a kid that it was almost painful to remember how much evil this man had probably seen in his life already. »Dean!« He gasped although it shouldn't be a surprise to him that Dean would break into his room in the middle of the night. His friend only pressed his index finger to his lips to shut him down as he slipped into Castiel's room and silently closed the door behind himself. Castiel could see how Dean quietly shoved a piece of wire into the pocket of his loose fitting pants. At least he had not again stolen a skeleton key, he supposed. At least Dean didn't want to break out of here with him again, he supposed. Not that he wouldn't want to be free again, but he still didn't know what to do when he would get out. What would be the point if he couldn't even remember his mission?

»Well, what did you expect?« Dean whispered and was a little too smug for Castiel’s liking as he stepped closer only to steal the drawing out of Cas’ hands quicker than Castiel would be able to keep him from doing so. »I told you we would talk in private and now we can. What'cha drawing, Sunshine? Who’s the chick?«

Dean didn't seem bothered at all by the little frown that Castiel shot at him, as he sat down on the bed next to Cas. »That's Gabriel.« Cas sighed as he motioned to the drawing. »At least the way he was drawn in the Bible. The real Gabriel does not look at all like that.«

»The archangel, huh?« Dean mumbled as he was studying the drawing before handing it back to Cas. »Homesick, aren't we? You seem to miss your brother, though I would have assumed that you would miss your father more.« Somehow, Castiel was not too sure that they were still talking about him or the same thing, to begin with.

»Our father has left us a long time ago.« Castiel shrugged his shoulders. »And I never got the chance to meet him too. Gabriel was more like a father to me than God ever was. He took care of me and the other fledglings of my generation. He … I remember him quite fondly.«

»I suppose you do.« Dean smiled as Cas discarded the drawing onto the bedside table and rubbed his hands over his tired face. Well, if anyone knew anything about the close bond between siblings, it was probably Dean Winchester. That much Castiel had already been able to gather about this wonderful man who was sitting beside him now. Dean was the only person who took his words as truth in this place, who didn't question him when he would say that the archangel Gabriel was his big brother, as if Dean himself knew a greater truth, deep down inside. It was easy talking to Dean. It had been easy talking to Dr. Whitman too, but Castiel knew that the doctor only saw a sick man in him while Dean seemed to see something else entirely.

»I just wished … I wished I could remember him. I wished I could remember more about home and why I'm here. What good am I for them down here when I can't even remember what I’m supposed to do?« Castiel sighed and gently pulled his own hair in frustration as he leaned back in his bed to rest against the white painted wall his bed was shoved against. Dean mirrored him without much hesitation.

»Well … Tell me what you remember then.« Dean offered with a faint smile. »Maybe that'll help you. Baby steps, Cassie.« He wasn't sure that it would, but how could he refuse this offer?

»I wouldn't know how to begin.«

»Begin at the beginning.« Dean chuckled and ruffled his dark hair as he did. Already Castiel had noticed that Dean was a very tactile person. He seemed to like being close to the people he liked. Apparently, Castiel was one of those people and he could deem himself lucky that he was. »Tell me about the night you came down to earth, for a start. What happened and how did you get here?«

He paused and thought about all the times Dr. Whitman had asked him the same thing and how often Castiel had just changed the topic to escape thinking about this night and the events that had led to him coming to this awful place. It was different now that Dean asked him this same thing, though. Strangely enough, Castiel did not feel the same pressure he often felt from the doctor. He opened his mouth to answer Dean before he could think twice about it and decide that it wasn't a good idea.

»I remember that it was the January 24th of this year, almost six months ago now. I got the order to come down and do … something. Something that I cannot remember. All I know is that I was send down here to protect someone. Someone who is important to God in some way. Anyway, I woke up in a field somewhere a little outside of Pontiac, Illinois.« He stopped as he felt the old barricade in his head that was always there when he was talking about that night, urging him not to go forward, compelling him not to scratch at the wall. »I still remember the feeling when I first possessed this vessel.« He stated as he pointed at Jimmy’s - his - body. »Jimmy was a very devout man and he gladly let me in. I could feel him in my head and knew that he was at peace with the state we were in. I blacked out shortly after I started walking for the first time in his body. I wanted to begin my mission and find the person I was supposed to find but after I blacked out and came back again, I didn't know who I was supposed to find anymore. I felt that my grace was gone - and so was Jimmy. To this day, I don't know what happened. I just know that something bad had happened. I wasn't in the same place than before either but in some street.«

»What do you mean, Jimmy was gone?« Dean asked and as their eyes met, Castiel started to realize just how tired he really felt. He wanted to sleep, as strange as this was.

»I mean … I couldn't feel him any longer. He was … gone.«

»You mean dead.«

»Yes … Dead.« Castiel shuddered and shook his head with a sigh. »And I … I was confused. I didn't know what happened. Nothing of this made any sense at all. Things weren't supposed to go this way. I was supposed to come down, do my job and leave again. Jimmy would have went back to his family and everything would have been okay but nothing was okay. Jimmy was dead and when I realized that I was in the street he was living in … Nothing was okay.«

He didn't know what Dean was thinking and for once he wished he did know. If Dean wanted to press on and ask further questions about what he meant, he did a great job not asking something like that again. Maybe he understood what he meant without him actually having to say it. He liked that about talking to Dean. It was easy. It felt easy. It was uncomplicated. Dean always seemed to understand what he meant without Castiel actually having to say it out loud.

»So … How did you end up here then?« Dean asked clearing his throat instead of pressing on further about what had happened after Castiel came back to his senses in that fateful night.

»I … I got picked up by the police. Apparently, I was walking around the city with no shoes on and looking confused.« Castiel furrowed his brows thinking about it.

»Apparently?«

»I don't remember this happening. But I was told that the police was called anonymously as I was walking through some neighborhood. They took me in, asked me questions about that night … about Jimmy … And his family. I told them what I knew and they brought me here.«

»Why did they ask you about Jimmy’s family?«

»They died that night.« Castiel finally found it in himself to say even though it took much more effort than he liked to admit. He didn't even know why it felt like this. It just did and he knew that it shouldn't be so hard. It wasn't his fault … Was it? »I don't know what happened.« He said before Dean could ask. »The police told me about it. Apparently, I was their prime suspect. I mean … Jimmy was. They were killed, Jimmy's wife and his little girl. And I felt … I was devastated. I felt guilty that this happened to those good people and that there was nothing I could have done to protect them. Jimmy wanted to help and now he and his family were dead.«

»What happened to them?« Dean asked quietly. »I mean … how were they killed?«

»I don't know.« Castiel replied. »They didn't tell me.« By this point, he didn't even know anymore if this was a lie or not. He didn't want to remember. Maybe that was the real problem in all of this. He didn't want to see it behind his closed eyes. That was why he tried avoiding sleep. And yet now that his head started drooping against Dean's shoulder, he couldn't help but long for sleep. Maybe the nightmares wouldn't come this time. If Dean would stay close, maybe he would find a peaceful sleep for once.

»I'm sorry, Cas.« Dean mumbled after a while and just sat there before he shifted on the bed next to Cas. Before he knew what happened, Castiel found himself lying on his back on the bed and half expected Dean to hover above him. He wasn't. Castiel felt how his slippers were removed from his feet before his legs were placed on the bed and only as he realized that Dean was spreading his blanket out over him, did he sit up again. Suddenly, he was very aware of the situation and the fact that Dean would leave him here in this room now after he had told him all of that and somehow, for some odd reason, he didn't want him to leave.

»Stay.« He urged quietly as he heard footsteps coming down the hall. One of the nurses was on his round to check if something seemed out of the ordinary. He would not look inside though. He never did. Still, Castiel couldn't quite shake off the events of the day and how Nurse Paul had treated him - what he had said to him. A murderer. That was what Paul had called him.

Dean hesitated for a moment, hovering near his bed, and Castiel couldn't blame him after what he had just told his new friend and hunter. After a second or two, however, Dean smiled and motioned for Castiel to scoot over and closer to the wall, so he did and Dean slipped out of his slippers and crawled into bed with him. For all his macho-talk, Dean was actually quite the sweet person. Castiel had already been able to look right through that facade of his friend, but he wouldn't tell Dean, of course. He felt like Dean didn't quite know what to make of all of this himself as if he was unsure of his own feelings and this entire situation. It hadn't escaped Cas, that Dean always seemed a little on edge whenever he was behaving especially out of the ordinary and was all too eager to remove all doubts about his masculinity as soon as he had noticed how sweet or kind he might have behaved previously.

»Don't feel guilty for something you didn't do, Cas.« Dean murmured quietly as he had finally gotten comfortable next to him on the bed. There was nothing between them in this narrow bed. No buffer, nothing to keep their bodies apart and it didn't even feel odd to Castiel. He remembered the kiss - his very first one in all his existence - and how completely normal and natural it had felt to him. This right here was the same thing. He felt like this was exactly how it was meant to be. But … was this because of Dean or because he was a human being? »It isn't your fault what happened to Jimmy and his family. You did what you were told and something got in the way. I know how that feels … but it's not your fault. No matter what anyone says, okay?«

He didn't know if it really was this simple, but he appreciated Dean’s effort in trying to calm him. Castiel slowly turned on his side to face Dean who was lying on his back for now. But just as Castiel turned, Dean also turned around to face him too. How odd. Still, lying like this, facing each other felt nice, even as he noticed how Dean’s eyes shortly flickered from his eyes to his lips, Castiel didn't waver. They were so close now that he could almost count every last freckle that was scattered across the bridge of Dean’s nose or his cheeks in the dim light of his reading lamp. Dean’s face was almost too perfect, even in the eyes of an angel. It was almost perfectly symmetrical which in itself was an inherently attractive trait that Dean possessed, but it were the little imperfections, like his freckles, or the tiny scars every here and there on his face, that made him truly gorgeous.

He could feel the longing and he knew what Dean said earlier and yet, his words betrayed what he felt and so it was him, for once, who bridged the gap between them to place his left hand in Dean's neck to pull him closer, taking his lips, before the hunter could even begin to protest. He didn't understand why it felt the way it felt, though. As an angel, he was not supposed to be intimate with a human being. He was supposed to protect the human race, not to kiss them, not to think of something more intimate and yet as Dean melted against him and snaked his hand around his waist, his lips parting as a silent invite for Castiel to ravish his mouth fully, Castiel had a hard time not enjoying this feeling and he thought that maybe that was why he fell in the first place.

Apparently, he just couldn't stick to the most simple of rules.

****

**-End of Chapter 12-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Merry Christmas <3

Spending the night alongside Castiel had almost felt too good to be true. For once, he had not been tortured with endless nightmares about his past. He hadn't slept either, unlike Castiel who seemed to have fallen asleep for the first time in a very long while. After they had broken apart from their kiss, the angel had fallen asleep almost instantly and his face had looked so relieved that it was almost gut-wrenching to Dean to realize that his friend had been fighting off sleep for such a long time and it didn't need a genius to realize why that was either. Dean knew that feeling all too well himself, this fear of nightmares and the horrors of one’s own past coming back to haunt him, coming to attack when one was the most vulnerable.

Dean had left Cas one hour before the nurses would open the doors so that his little stunt wouldn't get noticed by them. It wasn't the last time that he did something like this - sneak into Cas’ room and watch over his sleep to avoid sleeping himself because when he did, the nightmares would creep back into his head and torture him with all the things he wanted so desperately to forget. Every time he closed his eyes to find rest, however, he saw the same things over and over again. Every time he would fall asleep he would relive again and again how his father had killed his mother, his eyes black like the night sky outside of Sammy’s nursery, black like the shining little shells of bugs crawling all over his skin in the darkness.

Every night he would fall asleep, he would see his mother again, staring at him out of wide, green, horrified eyes, unable to do anything but try and crawl away from John, trying to save her boys from the monster in Sam’s nursery and not once did she succeed. His mother had died and the monster in Sam’s room had whisked them away, destroying their childhoods as they left their house behind engulfed in flames, sentencing Dean to a life of hunting monsters and staying on the road at all times, the raging inferno of his childhood home always in his peripheral vision. His mother couldn't save him from the monster in their lives and Dean was forced to witness her death over and over again, just like he was forced to face his father in his dreams over and over and over again, watching him with black eyes and a menacing smile.

»You seem even more distracted than usual, Dean.« Dr. Whitman sighed and ripped Dean from his thoughts as he stood at the window, like he would do so often, staring outside blankly, without even really seeing the world that was forbidden to him. Apparently, the weather had not yet gotten the memo that it was summer. It was raining cats and dogs out there since the day had started. Last night he had not spent in Castiel's room, but he wished he had. Still, this whole thing between them … He couldn't even give it a name and that only added to his uneasiness. »Is everything alright?«

»I'm just peachy.« He scoffed as he turned away from the window and instead leaned against the windowsill, grabbing onto it as if he needed to steady himself. »I just didn't sleep much this night.«

»It seems you haven't slept well in a few nights, Dean.« The good old doctor was quick to remark with a soft smile pulling on his lips, that Dean almost mistook for honest concern. This, of course, was utter nonsense. »Why don't you tell me the reason for your sleep problem? You didn't seem to suffer from insomnia when you first got here.«

»That’s because I don't _suffer from insomnia_ , Doc. I don't have troubles falling asleep - mainly because of the sleeping pills you keep giving me every night.« The jab of this hospitals practices did not get unnoticed as Dr. Whitman was quick to defend the decision of still prescribing the sleeping pills to Dean.

»They are necessary to help settle you down at night. Most of our patients have troubles sleeping and most of them get the same dose you get. It's a very small dosage for a grown man like you. Would you take the dose that is usually prescribed to a man of your age and weight, one pill would knock you right out in a matter of minutes, Dean.« Dr. Whitman explained and Dean knew that he was right. There was no way he would be able to force his body to stay awake for an entire night would he really get a high dose of sleeping pills. »So, tell me, Dean. What is it that's bothering you? Don't you sleep at all or do you suffer from nightmares?«

At this point, Dean wasn't too sure anymore if he wasn't here for good reason. Maybe he really was crazy. Maybe this was what he needed, whether he liked it or not. Maybe Sam was right. Maybe he needed help. Maybe he was just as crazy as his dad. Maybe Dr. Whitman could help him. Maybe he would get out of here as a healed man, able to start a new healthier life - a normal life without monsters, with a nice home and a normal job as a mechanic. Would this be so bad? Maybe … Maybe by now, he was even hoping for all of this to be true, for all of them to be right, for himself to be crazy. Because if he was indeed crazy, Dr. Whitman would be able to help him and then his dreams might come true in the end. If he wasn't crazy, though, his life would never change. His first instinct was to throw back some sarcastic comment at the good doctor and refuse to cooperate but before he could do so, the more reasonable part of his brain decided that he might give it a shot. »Nightmares.« He replied shortly with no further explanation.

»Do you want to talk about it?«

»No. Not really.« Dean replied and immediately Dr. Whitman opened his mouth to say something but Dean was quicker than the doctor was. »But I should, I assume. If I ever want to get out of here, I should…«

»Tell me then, is it always the same dream or does it vary?« The doctor asked, sitting up a little straighter now in his chair and getting his notepad ready for what Dean had to say.

»The same one. Mostly.«

»What is it about?«

»My mom’s death.«

Dr. Whitman's chair squeaked loudly as he leaned back in it and leaned his notebook against his crossed knees again. He didn't want to show it, but Dean could feel a certain sense of excitement radiating from him, probably because he thought that he was finally getting somewhere with Dean. »Whenever you are ready, Dean.« He gently probed. »Tell me what you remember from your dream, one step after another, alright?«

Dean nodded before he finally sat down in front of him again in this chair that was so familiar to him by now. Everything inside of him refused to tell the story about his dream and yet he knew that there was no other way. He had to talk about it if he wanted to get it out of his system. »My whole life … My whole life I thought that a demon had killed my mother.« He started quietly. »Because my father said so and why would he ever lie to me? My father was a good man and a good father back then. He loved me, he loved my mother and he loved Sammy. No … He adored us. Everyone said so. We were the most important thing in his life so why would he ever lie? But this dream … If my father didn't lie, than my subconsciousness is lying - and we both know what is more likely of those two options.«

»Sometimes our subconsciousness acts like a reminder of how things really played out because we humans tend very much to rewrite our darkest memories to make them more bearable, make them easier to cope with, make them less scarring and frightening.« Dr. Whitman said and held Dean's gaze for a moment longer. »Especially as children, when we see something we might not fully understand or see something that is traumatizing to us, we tend to rewrite this memory. Even more so when this memory revolves around our loved ones.«

»In my dream, my father kills my mother with a knife.« Dean finally admitted. »In my dream I was there when they fought downstairs in the living room. I still don't know if this really happened but why would I see this when it didn't happen? Why would I see my father kill my mother when it didn't happen? I always had my father's back, I always loved him unconditionally, just like Sammy and Mom. I had never any reason to distrust him or not believe him. So why … Why would I dream about something so horrible happening when it didn't happen?« He paused for a moment as he drove his hand through his hair. He had not talked to anyone about this dream until now - not even Cas. »And my dad … After Mom died, he was so different. He had lost himself in this night and I never understood it.«

»Do you feel like you understand this now?«

»I feel like … If this dream tells me the truth about that night, then yes, I understand it - and then I don't. I don't know why he would ever kill her. She was the love of his life and when he killed her - why would he drag us through the country in search of her killer?« He wanted to rip his own hair out. He wanted to claw at his scalp. »It doesn't make any sense!«

»Understanding your father's psychology so many years after all of this happened, Dean, is almost impossible to do. There are endless possibilities as to why your father did the things he did but I doubt that we will ever get to the bottom of it now without him.« His words were calm and softly spoken, a sorry attempt of calming Dean’s racing mind down.  

»So you say, we will never really know if my Dad did kill my mother or if this is just something my crazy brain conjured up?«

»Even if your father did not physically kill your mother, maybe your subconsciousness tells you that you always felt that your father had something to do with her death.« This was probably a very complex and complicated way of telling Dean that his dream was not a representation of what really happened but what he in his childish mind back then had thought or felt. Maybe, if he had indeed seen his parents fight in the night of his mother's death, he, being four years old, had shifted the blame onto his father subconsciously, although he might be innocent. And yet … Why had he seen it in such graphic detail then? He knew the reports of that night and he knew what his father had told him. He could remember the gush in his mother's stomach as she had been pinned to the ceiling as the room had caught on fire and he had seen his father cutting his mother in his dream. And why, if it hadn't happened, was he dreaming about it now that he was here and forced to deal with his past and his feelings without the chance of escaping dealing with this? »But Dean, without your father here and no one who might have witnessed it besides you, we will never be able to know what really happened. So tell me what you do remember of that night.«

»So in other words: This dream might be what really happened that night and my subconsciousness tries to show this to me now that my father is dead and I am detoxing from his influence and possible lies, _or_ it's all just crap and I'm even more crazy than we both thought.« Dean summarized with another sigh as he drove his hand through his hair. It seemed so pointless being here in this office all of the sudden. Why was he even telling him about his dream?

»True.« Dr. Whitman replied quieter than before. »However, Dean, dreams like this never come without good reason. Even if your father did not kill your mother, you clearly have unfinished business with your father and that is your mind’s way of dealing with it. So, instead of leaving it to bad dreams, why aren't we just talking a little about your father?«

He couldn't help but roll his eyes. »Sure thing, Doc, so ask me then.«

»I assume you know what I want to ask you?«

»Let's guess: You want to know what my relationship to him was.«

»That is what I would like to know, yes.« He chuckled. »I know that you are very loyal to your father already. I know that you acted as a buffer for your father in times of crisis and that you took the brunt of his duties too. But you never told me how you really felt about it.«

»What do you think how I felt about it?«

»I could imagine that you felt burdened by the duties your father loaded onto you.«

»Burdened … Well that's not the word I would use. It sucked. It sucked ass big time, Doc. I had to be a father and a mother to my little brother and no one ever asked me whether I liked it or not. No one ever considered that I was a child myself with the needs and wishes and dreams of a child. No one cared. Not Dad, not Sammy, not even Uncle Bobby. For them, all I was was a blunt tool, something they could use to do their bidding and that was it. No one cared what I wanted or needed. No one cared if I went to school regularly or did my homework. To my father, I was a lost cause anyway from the get-go. All I was good for was to take care of Sammy and hell, even that I couldn't do properly half of the time.«

»And your father, how did he treat you outside of your duties? Was he a calm man or did he have a bad temper?«

»You want to know if he beat me.« Dean concluded with a sigh but before Whitman could even form an answer to this question, Dean continued and he could hear his father's voice inside his head as he did. »Here’s the thing, Doc: My father was always sorry when he beat me. He was. And that's the key difference between abuse and discipline, right? If it had been abuse, my father would not have felt the need to feel sorry for having hurt me. All he did was discipline me when I fucked up and he would apologize later. It's not like I'm a traumatized little chick.«

 _Denial_ , that was written all over Dr. Whitman's forehead as he looked at him the next time. Maybe he wasn't so wrong about that either. Denial … That was what this voice inside his head was taunting him with too now.

»I mean … Yes, being beaten by my dad sucked ass, of course, but I wouldn't be the man I am now without this level of discipline, right? I mean … Just look at Sammy. Sure thing, he’s a fancy college student and will probably become a great lawyer in no time, yet he lacks in discipline and that's just as important, if not more so, than just being smart.« Well, judging by the fact that he was talking to a psychiatrist in a mental asylum, that might not be the best argument to offer to defuse any of these claims. »Worse was when he would leave us alone, though.« He finally admitted, though very quietly now.

»So neglect played a big part in your childhood?« What kind of question was this even?

»Yes, I guess so. Well, I wouldn't call it neglect strictly speaking. My father did the best he could with what he was given. He cared about us … But he … He was an ex-marine, Doc, you know? Before he married my mother. He was a navy guy. Corporal John Edward Winchester. A thick-headed tough guy, a real son of a bitch. He was in Vietnam, you know? United States Marine Corps.« He was stalling and they both knew it. »Anyway, he didn't always had the right tools to care for his children, I guess.« This didn't make the case for his father any better, Dean figured. »He left us alone quite a lot, actually, when I was old enough to properly take care of Sammy, that is. He left us for days, sometimes weeks and sometimes he forgot to leave us enough money or food - but it was never intentionally, Doc. He didn't mean to neglect us in any way.«

»What did you do when there wasn't enough food or money to buy more?«

»Depends.« He sighed. »Sometimes I would steal food, sometimes I would find store owners that had a soft spot for a boy like me and would give me something for free, sometimes I went dumpster diving, sometimes I took Sammy to the butchers and the staff would find us so adorable that they would give us something to snack on. Sometimes I went without food for a few days so that Sammy could eat. I mean a boy with a face like mine has his means to find a way, right?« He smirked.

He didn't know what Dr. Whitman might think of this statement and frankly, he didn't care much either. He knew all the things people thought about a guy who looked like Dean. He had heard the endless rumors during high school - only one of the reasons why he had dropped out. »Dean, you seem to be very concerned with trying to defend your father from any criticism, but why won't you tell me how you truly feel towards your father instead? This is only between us and no one else has to know about your true feelings towards your father.«

»Do you want me to break down dramatically and bawl my eyes out now?« Dean scoffed because being sarcastic and deflecting was really the only defense mechanism he got. »Do you want me to start crying about how my father beat me with his belt when he got angry or how afraid I was of him growing up? Do you want to hear how my father treated me like utter horse shit while he doted on my little brother and how I was forced to put Sammy first at all times - even before my own life if necessary? Do you want to hear what kind of monster my father truly was when he was drunk - which was almost half the time he was with us? Or how he gave us to complete strangers at times, not willing to take us along? Do you want to hear how lucky we were to have someone like Bobby and Pastor Jim in our lives to keep us safe for the most part? Or how much I despised my own brother at times for being so naive? Because _Sammy_ never knew who our father really was, _Sammy_ never saw how he treated me, _Sammy_ never got beaten or insulted, _Sammy_ never had to do the things I did for survival. Oh no, _Sammy_ went to school, _Sammy_ did his homework, _Sammy_ got good grades, _Sammy_ left and went to college and I had to stay behind with Dad! That's what you wanna hear? You wanna hear about the time my dad almost beat me to death as I did so much as smile at another boy my age because of the faintest hint of his son not being straight?« He huffed as he paced the room once again like a caged tiger after he had jumped from his chair. »I mean … Shit, Doc … What's the fun in hearing these things when we can instead pretend that my dad loved me?«

_What the hell did you just say? What the hell did you just do?_

»Well« Dr. Whitman began and cleared his throat. It was almost like a whiplash hitting him or like his father's belt smacking against the flesh of his back again, in neverending torment. »Dean, I think we should elaborate on these suppressed feelings of rage further in our next session.« _In our next session? Well, good thing I’m not suicidal, right?_ He was almost a little mad as there was a knock on the door. Sure, he didn't want to talk about his tragic backstory any further and yet - this was hardly the right moment to send him off his merry way and yet there was no chance for him to argue back to the good doctor now, right? No - he had to just roll with it, he assumed. He had to accept that, in the end, no one would really listen to his side of the story. Not even someone who was literally paid to do exactly that. It was quite sobering to realize that.

»Don't bother.« Dean replied with a little huff and almost regretted doing so as he walked towards the door. »I just made it all up anyway.« They both knew that this was a lie and yet, Dean was not even slightly willing to act the part as he left the room for good this time.

Dean had never noticed how much he missed his new friend whenever Castiel was not around for a few hours at a time. It wasn't necessarily that he missed talking to him when that happened - just being around him, having him hover close by. His presence alone seemed to be calming to his nerves sometimes. Yet, after his session with Dr. Whitman, he felt stressed and uneasy and Castiel was not around because he had to suffer through his own obnoxious treatment schedule. Poor thing. They hadn't talked about what this between them was and Dean doubted that they really needed to put it into words either. He wouldn't say that they were a couple because that would be a little odd for him to do, he assumed, but they were definitely more than friends. Maybe it was just his hormones going haywire in this stinking place and Castiel was the only decent looking guy around to focus his attention on because that was usually how that worked with him anyway, right? And man was Castiel a good looking guy.

»Daydreaming much?« The all too familiar voice of Mr. G. Smith ripped him from his thoughts as he caught himself standing in the door to Castiel's empty room as if he could conjure up the angel if he would just stare long and hard enough at his unmade bed or the pile of books next to it that was already reaching from the floor up to the top of his nightstand. »Maybe you should try to pray to him to make him appear from under his bed.« The janitor grinned sheepishly as Dean turned to look at him. He couldn't help but suddenly remember the first time he and Cas had made out in his own room and how the janitor, of all people, had caught them. Somehow the guy seemed to be around at all times and it was beyond weird to Dean, just like this candy thing the guy seemed to have as he was again throwing a candy bar at Dean for no apparent reason whatsoever.

»So … Mr. Janitor-man … Why didn't you tell on … us? I mean, I certainly haven't listened to the doctor telling me about all these rules in here but I'm fairly certain that one of them probably is to not screw around with other patients.« Dean shrugged and felt uncomfortable all the while.

»Names Gabriel, by the way.« The janitor smirked instead of granting him a proper answer right away.

»Like the archangel?« It wasn’t that odd a name, he supposed, and yet something about it was indeed odd to Dean. He just couldn't quite put his finger on it, though.

»My mom was a religious fanatic, so to say. Dragged me to Sunday church every week.«

»So … Why didn't you tell anyone? Shouldn't you have done so?«

But Gabriel only shrugged and extended his arms almost majestically as if he was going to give a speech and almost Dean expected a booming loud voice coming out of this man’s throat that would echo through the hallways. »And God spoke: Behold the fields in which I grow my fucks and see how it is barren.« Gabriel all but thundered but not loud enough to draw unwanted attention towards their little conversation. »Deano, you see, I really don't give two fucks what you guys do in here, right? As long as you don't puke all over the floors or smear things with poop on your walls, we’re friends, alright? I have no reason to tell on you guys and as long as you guys support each other in all of this, why throwing you under the bus? No, there are more than enough people here who will do that with gusto and I'm not one of them.« As he started to get moving again, Gabriel did not pass him without patting his shoulder. »But remember, Deano, safe sex is the most important thing, right? So if I can hook you guys up with condoms, just ask and Uncle Gabe will provide.« He laughed before moving along whistling a tune as if he had not just offered condoms to Dean just in case he wanted to fuck Castiel.

Dean thought that he would usually have jumped right at him, next time he would see Bobby Singer and yet, as he stepped inside the visitation room, for the longest moment, he just stood there as if he was staring at Medusa herself and turning into stone slowly but with the utmost certainty now. Dean hadn't quite known what to expect as one of the nurses, Bob, had called for him and told him that he actually had another visitor. Of course, the first thing he had thought was that it might be Sammy giving his awful older brother yet another chance to redeem himself but the moment he stepped through those doors and saw Bobby rise from his chair at one of the tables in the far left corner of the long stretched rectangular room with the large windows that were overlooking the beautiful park and gave the room a much more idyllic atmosphere, he was startled by surprise.

Last time he had seen Bobby, they had salted and burned his father's body. Last time he had seen Bobby, he had left Singer Salvage Yard in the Impala after an argument with his old friend that he utterly regretted only a few miles away from this house that had always been some kind of safe haven to him.

It took him actually a little moment of hesitation before he stepped forward and walked up to his surrogate uncle and Bobby, being the good friend and father figure he was, wasted no second more to pull Dean into a tight embrace that almost knocked the wind right out of his pipes as he had to bend down ever so slightly to return the hug - though maybe not as enthusiastically as Bobby initiated it. As he sat down across the table from Bobby, Dean felt like it was the first time in a long while that he was actually treated like a family member by someone, for Sammy had clearly not displayed the same level of affection towards him as they had first met after years of being apart.

»Dean« Bobby breathed as he dragged a hand over his beard in exasperation as it seemed and yes, as Dean looked him in the eyes now, Bobby seemed strangely agitated to see him again. Maybe it was his flamboyant outfit, the dark circles under his eyes, his sickly pale skin or the sheer fact that they were in an asylum and that Dean was not here on his own volition because of some case or something along those lines. »Dean … I was worried sick out of my mind because of you, Boy.« Now, at least, there was the same kind of underlying anger or scolding tone that Bobby generally used when talking to _his boys_ , and to Dean, this was actually a sort of comfort. Bobby always knew what to do. Bobby always had his head on straight. Bobby knew all the answers. Bobby would be able to tell him what to do.

»How did you even know where to find me?«

»After you vanished from my radar and didn't even try to get back in contact with me for weeks, I started calling several of my contacts around the country to help me look for you, Boy. And when no one had seen you around, I expected the worst, Dean.«

»Did you think I killed myself?« His question was meant to sound surprised and yet, it wouldn't have been too far-fetched that Bobby would have thought something like this. He had been terrible when he had left his old friend, after all. And yes, he had not been sober as he had driven down the country roads of South Dakota that night. Maybe, for a brief moment, he had even contemplated crashing his beloved car against a tree or drive it down some cliff.

»I've never seen you in that bad of a condition than in the night you left, Dean.« Bobby huffed. »You were completely out of your mind that night, so yes, forgive me for thinking you might have done something to yourself in your grief and pain. So I started digging, called hospitals and police stations, looked through newspapers and searched the web for anyone who might fit your description. And lastly, I called Sam. I was at my witts end, Dean - and when Sam told me what had happened, how could I have stayed away and not come to see what all of this is about?«

»What does it look like to you, Bobby?« Dean frowned. »My own brother threw me into the loony bin because he thinks I’m crazy as a hare in March. And to be honest, he might be right. I mean, look at me - I can't be here without good reason, right? Obviously, there is something not right with me or otherwise, I wouldn't still be here. And it's not like I hadn't had the chance to escape and just drive off for good.«

»Sam told me about this demon you were hunting - This girl.«

»Bobby … Why don't you wake up already? There is no such thing as demons and monsters! If there were, then why didn't the Holy Water work on her? Why didn't she flinch at least as I tried exorcising her?« It felt odd finally admitting that this whole monster thing might be not real, after all, he had grown up with it, always certain that monsters exist and yet now he had to agree with the doctor and everyone around him. »Let's face it, Bobby. I'm just as crazy as my dad. I need help. I really do need help because I don't want to die so young - but that’s what's going to happen if I don't get the proper help.«

»Dean - What is-«

»No, Bobby! I _need_ this right here and so do you! There are no monsters! We are the monsters, Bobby! We are the demons! We are what we try to fight and destroy! We are _killers_ Bobby, can't you see that?« His voice was growing frantic and he didn't even quite know why that was. He felt agitated and nervous. He wanted Bobby to understand the severity of all of this whether they liked it or not. They both had to start facing reality, right?

»Dean … _Boy_ … You know that this isn't true. This place is getting to you. That's not you speaking here. We both know that all of this is real but your father's death has derailed you and now you're just a little confused, right? I figure something out to get you of this place.« Bobby was pleading with him. He really was and if Dean wouldn't have known any better, he would have said that he could almost see moisture in those warm eyes of his friend.

»No, Bobby! I'm right where I'm supposed to be!« Dean replied shooting a glance over his shoulder. »And Dad … Dad was crazy, Bobby! Dad was a monster! You knew how he was! You knew what he did! And you did nothing about it! So don't just sit here and act all concerned for my well-being now! You knew what kind of a monster my father was, Bobby! And you left us with him so don't act surprised now that I'm in the loony bin because of what this man did to me my entire life.«

»Dean, what are you even talking about, Boy?«

»You know exactly what I'm talking about, Bobby!« As he jumped up he knew that Nurse Bob would soon be there to catch him and bring him back again and that he would probably never be allowed to have visitors until he wouldn't behave a lot calmer and yet he didn't care. His blood was boiling in pure rage in the face of the man who had helped raising him for such a long time. Bobby had been in on all of this and he couldn't stand looking at him now. »There was no demon that killed Mom, Bobby! You know that!« Dean finally erupted as the truth fell into place piece by piece. »Dad killed her! He gutted her like a fish! He killed Mom!«

※※※※※※※

Sam Winchester hadn't seen Bobby in years and yet he was not even surprised to find his foster uncle in front of his very door. It almost brought a sense of nostalgia as he stared into Bobby’s gruff face, with the wild beard around his jaw, the old trucker cap on his head and his eyes looking up at him from under his bushy eyebrows as if Sam himself had just randomly started the apocalypse in Bobby’s living room. This was every bit the same look that Bobby had given him as Sam had kicked a football through his kitchen window as a child. Of course, however, he knew that this time the reason behind that very look was a lot more serious than a broken window and he wouldn't even pretend to act as if he wouldn't know why Bobby was here in the first place.

Dean had always been Bobby’s favorite.

»Are you going to let me in or do I look like some kind of ditchable prom date to you, Boy?«

Bobby wouldn't be Bobby would he actually wait for Sam to let him inside, instead he just pushed past him inside his flat and never had Sam be more glad that Jess was at work already so that she wouldn't need to witness this right here. She had already seen enough of his crazy family and he didn't want her to witness even more of this - especially not the ass-whooping that was sure to follow judging by Bobby’s expression. All he wanted was a normal life and how was he ever going to get this with Bobby or Dean around? He could deem himself lucky already that Jess had not yet left him despite everything that happened with Dean. Every other girl would have run off screaming and calling him and his family a band of freaks, for sure.

»If you’re here because of Dean, then I can only ask you to leave now, Bobby. I don't have anything to say about him.« He didn't mean to be so defensive and cold towards the man who had helped raising him and his brother, the man who had actually been there for the Winchester boys during their childhood whenever their dad would have forgotten about his two sons. Yet, he couldn't help it. He was done taking the blame for everything. He had always been the odd one out in this family, after all.

»Not even why you threw your brother into the loony bin like that? Sam! Have you ever seen your brother in there?« Bobby growled every bit the agitated parent that Sam had expected him to act like. »Have you seen what this place does to him, Sam? Your brother is completely lost there! He starts forgetting who he is! He’s becoming crazy in there!«

»Bobby, he is already crazy!« Sam replied no less agitated than Bobby. He was growing tired of being treated like some kind of monster for getting his big brother help. He was tired of getting treated like he was evil when in reality all he did was for Dean’s sake. He loved his big brother enough to ensure that he would get better! »Have you ever listened to the crap he is spouting? Well - Look who I’m asking, right? And yes I have seen him in there! What do you expect me to do? He broke into my flat and scared the crap out of me and my girlfriend, Bobby! I'm done with all this crazy shit and I would really appreciate it would you leave and don't act as if Dean was just some misunderstood little boy who couldn't hurt a fly! He was trying to kill an innocent woman - twice!«

»I'm not saying that your brother does not have a few issues, Sam-« Sam scoffed but Bobby continued with not so much as a dark frown on his face. »but he does not deserve to be locked in there and drugged out of his mind! Heck, he even claimed that your father killed your mom all these years ago, that's how much he lost his marbles in there already, Sam!«

Now he was growing silent at last. Bobby dropped such a bomb on him and expected him not to care about this new information but instead immediately go and free his brother? »What?« Sam breathed and couldn't help but take a step back and away from Bobby. »Dean said what?« His father had killed his mother? How in the world would Dean come to a conclusion like this if it had not at least a grain of truth to it? Why would his brother say something like this when it wasn't fact? His brother had worshipped the ground their father walked on and now he was claiming that John Winchester had killed his wife? He couldn't help but feel as if a rug had been pulled out from under him. Suddenly, he felt even more lost than after learning of his father’s death.

His father had killed his mother. The truth of this hit him harder than he would have ever been able to predict and with it, a wave of pure, blind and all-consuming hatred for his entire fucked-up family washed over him stronger than anything that he had ever felt in his life.

»Sam, that is not real! Your brother starts losing his mind, he is making up stories in his head to explain the unexplainable things he saw in his life just so that he can get out!« Bobby frowned. »Listen, I know that your dad has not been a saint, Sam. He lost his way after your mom’s death and maybe he was indeed crazy in some aspects, but Dean is not and Dean knows what he saw that night. Your father didn't kill your mother, Sam! It was this demon that they were hunting for the last couple of years and it was this very same demon that killed your dad too! What if it's after Dean now that he so vulnerable in there? We have to help him get back on track, Sam!«

»I am helping my brother, Bobby.« He hissed and sharply pointed to the door. »I took care that he got the help that he needed for once and that is more than you ever did for him. I'm not going to sit here and enable my brother to keep destroying his own life with those delusions my father planted into his head. Dean had always been gullible and we both know that. Really, Bobby … Just listen to yourself … Demons … Please, just lose my number and go, okay? I don't want anything to do with this crap anymore.« A part of him did hurt as he told Bobby all of this, because, yes, it was not fair to Bobby. He had loved him and Dean like they were his own sons and he had so much to be thankful for when it came to Bobby and it almost seemed cruel what he was doing to this good-hearted man now. Yet he couldn't help it. »Don't even act like you knew my father, Bobby Singer. You knew shit about this cruel man and how he treated us! Or did you know that my father had another son? Did you know about Adam? Did you know how he spent some sunny weekends with this kid playing baseball and catch and playing happy little family while we were rotting in some crappy motel room without enough food or money to get by? No you didn't, right? So don't come here, acting holier than thou, preaching how I have to save my brother from the only place where he can even hope to find the help that he needs so desperately after my father destroyed him so thoroughly! I love Dean just as much as you do and I am not doing this to be cruel to him! I'm doing this out of love for him! I'm doing this because I want my brother to have a normal life with normal things going on! I want him to get out there and be happy for once in his life! And as long as you want him to keep going after those imaginary monsters, you’re not my friend, Bobby, so there’s the door.«

****

**-End of Chapter 13-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3


	14. Chapter 14

Castiel knew the words that would come out of Dr. Whitman’s mouth before he could even open it and he didn't quite know what to reply to what would hit him. It was still early in the morning. So early in fact, that the sun was still not fully risen yet and the sky outside tinted magenta while a very thin mist hovered over the lawn of the park outside. He missed being outside. He missed going for a walk in the park. At least he still had his bees for now that he had been allowed to visit in the herb garden. And yet, Castiel was sure that this privilege would soon be revoked too.

Should he feel a sense of shame because of the way Dr. Whitman looked at him from behind his reading glasses as Castiel stood at the window? Should he feel a sense of embarrassment for what had happened? Probably. It would be the human thing to experience, he assumed. »I’m very sorry that you have been called here so early in the day, Doctor.« Castiel said turning towards him. It hadn't been his intention that poor Dr. Whitman who was in this asylum way too much anyway, would be rung up by the nurses even before dawn. Then again, in the moment, he hadn't thought much about the good doctor or really anyone else except the person beside him in his room.

Dr. Whitman seemed honestly a little surprised by his words as he looked at him with a slight frown and furrowed brows, before there was the ghost of a smile playing on his face. »Castiel« At least he was not calling him Jimmy again. »You know the rules.«

»I do, Doctor.« Castiel replied immediately and as honestly as he could. Of course, he knew the rules. should he act a little more guilty perhaps? Humans tended to cast down their eyes and look up through their lashes when they would feel guilty and tried to convey that feeling in hopes of getting sympathy. Well, human children did at least - and Dean. Dean actually did this a lot and it always seemed to work.

»You know our stance on sexual relations between patients or between patients and staff then.«

»I do, Doctor.«

»You know that we can't just let this one slip then, right?«

»I know, Doctor.«

»However, we are not going to get either one of you off this ward for now. As long as this will not happen again. Next time someone will catch you and Dean doing anything inappropriate, one of you will be sent to a different ward, Castiel. Dean Winchester is probably unstable enough to be sent to unit four anyway. Until then, you will find that all your privileges have been revoked.« This was not the worst that could have happened, he assumed. It would have been worse would Dean have been sent to unit four. He didn't wish to have Dean taken away from him. »You understand that?« Castiel nodded quickly and the smile that appeared shortly on Dr. Whitman's face was mild as he looked at him. »Tell me then, Castiel, what do you feel for Dean Winchester?«

Dean Winchester … Somehow this name had been familiar from the start and still, he didn't know why. He felt that he should know why. »I enjoy his company very much.« Which was probably quite obvious by the state he and Dean had been caught in. »I mean … I think he is a good man, Doctor.«

»Castiel you don't need to hide your emotions from me, I hope you are aware of that fact. I understand why it might be uncomfortable of talking about something like this, especially after you have been married to a woman before and were a devout Christian all your life. I can imagine that it's not easy even considering having feelings of this nature for another man then.« Even though these things seemed so very natural and understandable to Dr. Whitman, Castiel did not understand any of that. Why should it be uncomfortable or confusing to him?

»I'm afraid I don't understand this, Doctor.« Castiel frowned. »Why would it matter if Jimmy had been married to a woman before or whether or not he had been a devout Christian? That's one of the many misconceptions the human race has about my father and his wishes, I believe. God does not care about stuff as trivial as sexuality. He doesn't care about whether or not someone is bisexual, straight or homosexual. As long as no one gets hurt and as long as everything is consensual, my father does not care. He told the human race to love, Dr. Whitman, unconditionally. He didn't tell you to love - but only if your partner fulfills certain criteria. Just to love and that is both the simplest and hardest task he has ever given the human race. So no, I don't feel uncomfortable considering having any feelings towards another man. It doesn't really matter what's between a person's legs or not. This vessel is male, yes, and so is my ‘soul’ in lack of a more appropriate term, but I could have chosen a female vessel just as well and it wouldn't have changed how I see the world or the people around me.« He paused to glance out of the window again where a sparrow was just landing on the windowsill. »And in terms of Dean Winchester, Dr. Whitman, I am not attracted to his genitalia - if that's what you were asking - I have been drawn in by his soul. That's the only things that should matter when it comes to questions of the heart.«

In all honesty, Dr. Whitman seemed baffled, to say the least, as Castiel turned back around to face him. This was probably not quite the answer he had expected. It seemed to take him a moment or two to recover from Castiel's explanation before he cleared his throat. »I am glad to hear that this is not an issue for you.« He had enough issues already, he assumed the doctor wanted to say but decided against it. It was probably better this way. »However, maybe that’s a topic for another day, Castiel. Since I’ve gotten here early today, I would like to do our session for today now instead of sending you away again until this afternoon, is this alright?«

Castiel just nodded. To him, it didn't matter anyway if he would stay here to talk to Dr. Whitman now or if he would come back later.

»Castiel, I think it is about time that we have a serious conversation about the night you came here.«

»But doctor, I already told you that I hardly remember anything of that particular night.«

»Yes that is indeed a problem, Castiel.« Dr. Whitman sighed as he pulled out a file from one of his drawers and placed it on the table in front of him. He gently motioned to Castiel to sit down and take a look at the file and so, with a little bit of hesitation, Castiel sat down in front of him and opened the file. For a long moment, Castiel couldn't do much but stare at the pictures in front of him.

»Jimmy« Dr. Whitman said as he tried to get his attention again. »Jimmy you do know what happened that night. You killed your family, Jimmy, and we finally need to talk about it.«

※※※※※※※

He had never experienced something like that. Hell, it hadn't been his first rodeo for sure, not the first time he had slept or made out with someone for sure and yet, it had been something completely new and different this thing with Castiel. He didn't know quite how it had happened either but he could still feel Castiel's tongue darting down his neck, could still taste him on his own tongue, could still feel the way he had moved against him as if all of this came so very naturally to him despite the fact that he claimed to never have done anything like that before. And yet it had been way too easy to just melt away under Castiel's lingering touches and caresses. Fuck, even thinking about it, made it hard for Dean to focus on the task at hand which was currently breakfast, although he was pushing his scrambled eggs around on his plate instead of actually eating.

Last night he had gone back to Castiel's room once more, Gabriel’s words still in his mind and though initially, they had made him pause and think about his connection to the angel, last night, there was no such thing as a second thought. Of course, he still told himself that this was just to get rid of his nightmares that only seem to grow stronger and stronger each day and yet it was quite hard to keep lying to himself when he would doze beside Castiel every other night, pulling the angel close to his chest or curling around him. Lying to himself had never been more difficult than in these days and yet it was so very tempting to continue this way.

However, last night their chaste little kisses had lead to something a whole lot more and a whole lot more mature quite quickly. Within seconds of Dean instigating the first kiss gently, Castiel had been on top of him and though he had been unsure and a little surprised at first, there really had been nothing in his mind telling him to fight that little guy off. This thought alone was even more horrifying than every nightmare could ever be, because why the hell had his mind not protested against this? Why the hell had his mind decided that this would be acceptable? His father would have … His father … John would have … _Yes, what?_ The demon that was hovering in his peripheral vision mocked. What would his father have done had he seen this? _What would Daddy have done to you, Deanie?_

He tried to shake off these thoughts - or rather to get this voice out of his head now. He knew what his father would have done, that was the problem. Almost he could hear his dark voice right next to him. _No, you can't go through this again, Dean, not now, not after you started to see your father for the monster he was, come on now_. He felt like he had an angel on his right shoulder and the devil on his left and only then did he realize that this new voice in his head sounded strangely like Castiel - the angel on his shoulder. What a weird thought to have, really. And yet, what about all of this situation was not weird?

They should have been a whole lot more careful in their little adventures, Dean thought as he glanced back over his shoulder. Nurse Paul stood at the door to the dining room, keeping watch over the patients, but his eyes ever so often flickered towards Dean and the hunter could feel his gaze prickling in his neck ever so often. He was not looking at him now that Dean cast a look at him, though, and maybe he was just imagining things. However, he was a hunter and he had always been able to trust his gut instincts no matter what. Surely they, he and Castiel, were the talk of the town already and yet, somehow Dean didn't even quite care if any of these nurses would think he was a faggot. They thought he was crazy anyway, right? Why don't give them anything else to run their mouths about? Still, he should have been more attentive last night. He should have heard the footsteps coming down the hall to Castiel's room before the door had been ripped open on them. It would have been funny under different circumstances too - like in those high school flicks where some horny teenager got caught by his parents masturbating or something like this. The scolding had not been so funny though. Poor Dr. Whitman had been called up right away to meet them both as soon as possible and that he had.

Now that he came to think about it, Cas was in his office for quite some time already.

His own conversation about what happened with the doctor had been a short one. He had been thoroughly scolded for infiltrating Castiel's room and making out with the angel, had gotten his few privileges revoked - again - and been sent off with the threat of getting transferred to unit four if he would misbehave again in such a way. At least, he thought, they hadn't been caught having sex, this would have been quite embarrassing, he assumed. At least for Castiel, it would have been embarrassing because Dean hardly possessed a sense of shame if he was being honest. He wouldn't even care to run naked through these hallways. Then again, Castiel probably didn't even understand what shame was. And really, all Dean could think about anyway was how hot Castiel's kisses had burned on his skin.

Dean had always been the sexual type and so it was not always that easy to hold back for him.

Suddenly there was noise coming from the hallway. He wasn't sure what he was hearing at first but as someone outside in the hallway yelled for someone else to come and help, Dean grew aware of the screams coming from outside the dining room. Dean was up on his feet before Paul could even rush out of the dining room and hurried to the door himself and of course, as the screams and the shouting coming from the hall grew in volume after Paul had rushed out, all hell broke loose inside the dining room. The dining room transferred from a peaceful nice room with the occasional chatter to a cacophony of shouts and cries and ruckus within just a heartbeat. It was pandemonium as the patients started to get all riled up from the panic outside on the hallway, jumping on tables, throwing over chairs like chimpanzees in a frenzy. Dean, however, couldn't care less as he stepped out of the dining hall only to feel his heart drop and his anger boiling as he got a glimpse of what was really going on.

It needed three grown men to get Castiel into the straightjacket in the middle of the hallway. The security guards had all hands full as they tried to get a hold on Castiel while Paul tried to deal with the straightjacket. Another nurse was pushing past Dean inside the dining hall to calm the other patients down while Castiel was still yelling and screaming and kicking as if he was completely out of his mind. Dean, for a moment, could only watch in horror how the men handled Castiel, how the angel was trying to fight them off as if those three guys were the embodiment of the monsters in his dreams that not only Castiel tried to escape every night. He was screaming his lungs out and yet, it was impossible to understand what he was even saying. The language he used, the tone of his voice, all of this seemed not from this world as he was dragged down the hallway, barely on his feet because of the tight grip the security guards had on him.

He needed to get to him and help him. That was his first impulse and yet he felt frozen on the spot and didn't know why. Only as he saw how Paul opened the doors to the padded cells, did Dean started to move again and was promptly stopped by the stick of a mop that was quickly thrust in front of his chest as to block his way. »Don't dig yourself an even deeper hole now, Deanie.« The janitor’s voice was quiet as he spoke as if he didn't wish anyone to hear them. His appearance took him so much by surprise, that Dean almost stumbled back. Had he been there the entire time? Where else should he have been? It wasn't like the janitor would appear out of thin air. Or did he? He bit back a groan as he pressed his fingers to his temples hit by sudden pressure shooting through his head. He needed to get out of here. He needed to get out. For once, as he stayed and tried to lean against the wall, Dean was sure that he would die in here would he not get out soon and just as he wanted to turn to the janitor again, Gabriel was gone as if he had never been there.

»What's going on here?« He breathed quietly, almost unable to form the words in his head. The demon was down the hall, lurking behind the corner to the common room, grinning, menacingly with Dean’s own face. »What's going on…«

»Jimmy had a major breakdown.« Was he losing his mind? As Dean turned to face the person who had spoken to him, he expected to find nothing and yet he was faced with Dr. Whitman who was pressing a tissue against his nose. Dean could clearly see the blood seeping through the thin material as Dr. Whitman seemed to try to stop the bleeding from his nose. Had Castiel attacked him? »Yes, he did.« Had he said this loud? He could almost hear the demon’s cackling now as he shot another glance down the hall to where he was still lurking and watching.

»No…« Dean all but hummed as he again pressed his left hand to his head in an attempt of stopping the headache that was creeping up on him and the silent ringing in his ears. »No … Cas would never do this … Not Cas.«

»Dean« The doctor almost sounded exasperated. »Dean, I don't believe you really know Jimmy, the real Jimmy.«

»I know him!« Dean shot back immediately. »He's my friend! He wouldn't attack anyone! That's all just a bunch of fucking lies just like last time! If you wanted to punish someone for what happened last night then you should have punished me for fuck’s sake!« Because that was it, right? They wanted to punish Castiel for fooling around with him!

»Dean, this has nothing to do with this.«

»Yeah, sure!«

»Dean« His voice was all but pleading with him now, but firm nonetheless. »Jimmy Novak is a far more dangerous man than you believe him to be - especially when he loses his grip. Jimmy killed his family.«

※※※※※※※

The night was biting cold as thick fresh flakes of snow were falling to the ground quietly and the full moon hung heavy from the sky, threatening to fall down to earth like a planet on a child’s mobile perhaps. Castiel was unable to tear his eyes away from the starry sky or the falling snow as he just stood in the middle of this snow-covered field. For some reason, Jimmy had ventured out here to accept Castiel into his body, but he didn't question the man’s decision. Jimmy had probably not wanted his family to see it or hear him talking to himself. It was no secret that his wife thought that he was crazy.

Yes, Castiel had watched Jimmy. He had watched him for a long time, trying to understand this man and his life, enjoying the calm peacefulness of the kingdom that Jimmy Novak had erected for himself that was solely composed out of the small suburban house he had bought after he got the job at this radio station in this very quiet and calm neighborhood out here in Pontiac, Illinois, his beautiful wife Amelia, and his sweet princess Claire. Jimmy had seemed to be a happy man to Castiel. A man who was always eager to do the right thing and follow the righteous path, believing firmly in God and the Bible. He had been the perfect candidate for Castiel, although a part of him had been uncertain whether his mission was worth destroying this young man’s life forever. Because, no matter how much he tried to wrap it in a nice package, no matter how colorful he described his mission to Jimmy, Castiel knew that Jimmy Novak’s life was de facto over in the moment he had said yes to an angel. Jimmy, however, did not know this and he seemed to be content with Castiel inside of his body. Castiel could feel Jimmy’s calm presence inside his head, asleep but alive.

He could still feel the lingering sting of betrayal in Jimmy’s chest from his wife telling him to take pills he didn't need. Well, it had to be expected that his wife would react this way, Castiel assumed. It seemed to be human nature to always expect the worst when someone they loved would say they were talking to angels - or sticking their hand in boiling water.

Castiel had felt the desperation that had been radiating from Amelia Novak that night as Jimmy had first talked to her about Castiel after she had caught him with his arm to the elbow in a pot of boiling water while Castiel had stood beside him, making sure no harm would ever come to his vessel. And he could still feel the pain of desperation inside Jimmy that had lead the young man to leave his house tonight and go for a walk. His wife thought him crazy because she had refused to believe that what her husband told her could be true. Instead, she had demanded him to take pills to get rid of Castiel.

It was a sign of his strong faith that Jimmy had refused to do as she had told him and instead decided to accept Castiel into his life. The only thing that was left for Castiel now was to hope that Jimmy’s family would be alright in the future even without him. His mission was a dangerous one and as Castiel started walking finally, his entire world turned black in an instant.

The light was blinding as he opened his eyes and could only see the snow that was covering the walls around him. He was in an igloo. That was the only explanation he had for why the ground, the walls, and even the sky were a clean white. He couldn't feel the cold that should be radiating from the ice and the snow around him, however, and as he tried to look down on himself, he found that he too was covered in a soft blanket of pure white snow. He should feel cold. That was, at least what he expected to feel and yet, he felt nothing at all - Just a strange feeling of serene repose as if nothing in this world mattered anymore, as if nothing was of importance as if he could just lie in this bed of snow forever and just _be_. He didn't need to get up and fight anymore. He didn't need to try and remember his mission anymore. He didn't need Heaven or Hell or God anymore. All he needed was to lie here and just be.

Wasn't there something he needed to do, though? Something that was really important? Wasn't there someone he had to look out for? Wasn't someone waiting for him? Even if there was, Castiel didn't care any longer and this feeling was strangely pleasing to him. He didn't care. And he didn't care that he didn't care. He just was and that was all that mattered now.

»You killed me, Castiel.« As he turned his head to his left, he could see the figure that was leaning against the wall of his igloo. It was a man and he looked just like the body Castiel was wearing and yet the man didn't look like him at all. »You killed me so you can't just lie here and do nothing. You killed me and now it was all in vain.«

»I didn't kill you, Jimmy.« Whose voice was this even? Was he speaking? It sounded like him but he hadn't felt his mouth moving. It couldn't be him. Maybe he just couldn't see this other person, this other man yet. The two figures were hovering somewhere around him, talking to each other like ghosts from the past and Castiel was just a silent observer. He had no influence on the situation, no power to change anything. He would just lay here and listen to the men talking to each other.

»You did and you don't even remember it now.« Jimmy hissed from his spot on the wall of the igloo. »You are not an angel either, Castiel. You are just a demon. You are the devil who tricked me into believing him. You tricked me into saying yes and then you killed me and destroyed my whole life.«

»Even the Devil himself had once been God’s favorite and most beautiful angel.« The other man answered. Castiel couldn't help but agree with him. He was right, after all. Lucifer had been God's favorite son, a beautiful angel and the star who had shined the brightest in heaven. He remembered him. He remembered how Lucifer used to teach those angels he found the most interest in, just like Gabriel and so very differently than Michael or Raphael. Neither Raphael nor Michael had cared for the lesser angels that God had left in their care. Lucifer’s smile, however, had been able to light up the entire world when he had been surrounded by the fledglings. He remembered the warmth that he had portrayed and the love he had shown. Not for the human race, though.

»You lied to me.« Jimmy growled and his voice was no longer the one he remembered, no longer human even. It was the guttural growl of a beast lurking in the darkest shadows of the night, full of rage and anger and the lust for blood and revenge and as Castiel looked at him again, he saw that his once impossible blue eyes were the purest black as Jimmy stared back at him. His eyes were like lakes in the night, perfect black mirrors and would he come closer, Castiel would be able to see his own reflection in them, his soul getting trapped in them forever. »You lied to me and I died. You promised me paradise on earth and I died. You are the Devil, Castiel. You lured me in with sweet words and then you destroyed my life and my family and took everything from me.«

»I didn't do what you claim.« The other Castiel replied but even Castiel himself started to believe that there was something wrong. »I didn't kill you and I didn't kill your family. I didn't kill anyone!« Hadn't he? He sounded guilty, even in Castiel's ears. He sounded like a man tortured by a deep self-loathing and guilt, like a man who had committed horrible crimes against the human race while claiming that the angels were sent to be their shepherds and protect them with everything that was in their power. Yet, he had blood on his hands.

Castiel squeezed his eyes shut only for a moment because the white world around him was too blindingly bright but as he opened his eyes again, the snow was no longer untouched and clean but splattered with the petals of red roses like drops of blood. No this wasn't right. No, he hadn't done anything wrong. He hadn't hurt anyone. He had been sent to earth to protect the human race, hadn't he?

»You don't even remember your mission anymore.« Jimmy spat and blood was pouring out of his mouth with every syllable as Castiel turned his face to look at the creature. »All of this for nothing. Tell me, Castiel, how did it feel as you slid my daughter’s throat? Did she scream? Did she fight? Or didn't she see it coming? Tell me, Castiel, did my daughter think that her father was just going to give her a hug as you did it?«

No, this wasn't right. This hadn't even happened, right? Why should he have killed this innocent little girl? He had done nothing. He had been sent to protect! Why would he kill the innocent? Why would he kill Jimmy's family? There was no reason! He hadn't done it! He couldn't have done what Jimmy said he did! This was just not how things were supposed to be! And he shouldn't be lying in this bed of snow! He should be … Yes, what? What was he supposed to do?

»Why do you think your wings and your grace is gone, Castiel?« Jimmy was unbearably close now as he was leaning over Castiel and this time, in fact, Castiel was able to see the reflection of his own face in the black mirrors of Jimmy's face. »You've fallen, Castiel. You are just one more monster in this word.«

»I'm not a monster.« This time he felt his own mouth move, his dry and broken lips stretch around the words he tried to form so desperately now because why wouldn't Jimmy see that he was innocent? »I'm not a monster … I haven't done anything … I'm innocent … I was tricked … We were tricked … I was betrayed. They betrayed me - My own brothers and sisters did! They were out to kill me! They were trying to kill me - to stop me! I was … I was just a victim like you…« And still he didn't remember what happened but Jimmy's face kept hovering above his without any movement and so he squeezed his eyes shut once again.

He was no longer inside the igloo as he opened his eyes the next time but in a dark street surrounded by strange and unfamiliar houses. His body hurt and he grew gradually more and more aware that his body wasn't supposed to hurt. Yet it did. He felt heavy as he slowly dragged his feet down the street, getting the feeling that he had done so for quite some time already. Jimmy’s trench coat hung heavy on his shoulders, trying to drag him down into the abyss of the darkness below his feet.

It only took a blink for him to be somewhere else entirely. He stood on the food at the staircase in Jimmy's house and he could see the blood that was smeared on the wall leading up to the first floor. Why would anyone ever try to run upstairs in search of safety? He didn't even know where this question had come from.

Laughter wafted from the kitchen through the entire house and as Castiel turned his head, he felt the warmth coming from the kitchen. He decided to follow the sounds, the light and the warmth and found himself in a brightly lit room. Soft music was coming from the stereo in the living room. He had never heard it before and yet he knew it. The usual Christmas tunes that would play all holiday season on the radio and tv, happy and sweet. A new smell hit him by surprise and he closed his eyes for a second to get swept away by it. The smell was sweet and comfortable - cookies. Yes, that was it and as he stepped into the kitchen, he found Jimmy again. Jimmy and his young daughter Claire. They were baking coconut macaroons and Amelia was nowhere in sight.

»When's Mom coming home, Dad?« Claire asked and Castiel remembered that night. It was almost Christmas and outside the world was covered in snow. Jimmy’s face looked peaceful like he remembered it to look before he had claimed his body to be his vessel.

»In two hours, Pumpkin.« He heard himself reply and Claire smiled widely at his words as she was proceeding to place the dough on the baking paper. »Why?«

»Because Mom will flip out on us when she sees this mess.« Claire chuckled. The kitchen was indeed a complete mess. There were flour, pots, and crumbs all over the place and yet Jimmy did not seem bothered by the very real possibility of having to face his wife’s wrath. Instead, he laughed and his whole face lit up as he did, showing too much of his teeth without a care in the world.

»Claire, there isn't a great many things I know for certain in this life. But one thing I do know: If it feels too easy, you’re doing it wrong.« He grinned and before his daughter could do anything about it, Jimmy had smeared dough on her little nose. She squealed with laughter as she realized her father's attack and it was the most beautiful sound Castiel had ever heard in his life. He didn't want to leave this memory. He didn't wish to question why he was having Jimmy's memories either. It just was what it was and he decided not to question it. There was no use in questioning these things.

»Castiel, don't step on that fish. We have big plans for that fish.« Gabriel said and Castiel could almost hear the smirk that was pulling on his brother’s lips as he did but as he turned his head to face his older brother who was holding his hand tightly in his own, he couldn't see his face. He could see the golden glow of Gabriel's wings, felt the warmth of his brother’s hand that had always been oh so very comforting to the younger angel and in this moment, Castiel didn't want to do anything but holding onto Gabriel and never leave his side again. He was safe with Gabriel. He didn't need anything but this. And yet, as he tried to focus on the memory of his brother’s face, as he tried to remember what Gabriel looked like, the world turned darker again. The laughter, the Christmas music from the stereo, the warmth of the running oven and the sweet smell of the freshly baked cookies, faded away too quickly for Castiel to catch up with the memory.

»Jimmy?« The voice of the young woman was fearful as he just stood there in the middle of the kitchen and felt the weight of the butcher knife in his left hand. »Jimmy? What have you done?« Amelia was pale like a ghost as she stared at him out of large eyes, the last flicker of light slowly leaving her body as she sank further down on the wall she was leaning against, clutching the gush in her stomach. It was not her nature to just give up right then and there, though and Castiel knew that she would try to escape. He watched her crawl to the back door on all fours, fruitlessly dragging her dying body towards freedom and possibly help. He paused, watching in amazement the effort she was making, how her muscles were still fighting to save her, to drag her outside so that maybe she could call for help although they both knew that this would be for naught. Even if she would get out, nobody would hear her scream, nobody would come to save her. She was already lost. Couldn't she see that? It would be so much easier for all of them, would she just give in already. Yet, slowly, Castiel was forced to follow her to end all of this madness and her pathetic struggles.

He maneuvered Jimmy's slim body to follow his wife and right as she reached the door and stretched her right arm for the doorknob, he was over her, bend down and turned her around effortlessly. After all, she was just one pathetic little human and no match for someone as strong as he was. She had nothing against him, only her panicked eyes as she stared up at him now, her lower lip quivering in fear. »Why Jimmy?« She hollered and maybe he should have given her an answer, maybe he should have given her a reason as to why he was doing that. The thing was, though, he had no reason. This, right here, was what he had to do, what he was meant to do.

»You are going to be fine.« He spoke but his own voice was foreign to him as he knelt down slowly, one knee to each side of her body. »Don't worry, Amelia. You are going to go to Heaven soon. And so will Claire. Don't worry about it. You’ll be reunited with your family in Heaven and all will be as it is supposed to be. Trust me, there is nothing left for you in this world anyway.« He could see the confusion in her eyes as he raised his arm with the knife once more and the second of realization as he slammed the knife down and plunged it straight through her heart. He didn't feel joy as he administered the final blow to that God-fearing woman, no satisfaction.

This was what had to be done and she would be better off dead now anyway. He waited and watched how Amelia Novak took her last breath, her eyes never leaving his face. There was deep regret in her eyes, sorrow etched into her features. He couldn't help but feel sorry for that woman. She had been a good person, even Castiel had been able to see and understand that. She had been pure of heart and soul, honest to the people around her, full of love for her family and neighbors. She didn't deserve this end and neither did Claire, lying upstairs in a pool of her own blood on her bed. None of these people did deserve this fate and yet it was what he thought was the right thing to do. He had to follow his mission, after all, and for that, he couldn't use loose ends.

»Castiel, don't step on that fish. We have big plans for that fish.« Gabriel's voice sounded so far away and yet, he could feel him close by as he opened his eyes anew and was back inside the Igloo with Jimmy hovering just out of arm's reach. He was afraid of the black mirrors in his face, as he dared to look at the man in the white clothes hovering in the corner, ready to attack him at any given point now. He was afraid of this man and yet he wouldn't be able to escape him no matter how hard he would try. Jimmy was here, his own personal torturer who would make sure to make him relive the worst moments of his life again and again and again.

»Castiel, don't step on that fish.« The words were echoing through his brain like a mantra now, like the only thing that could keep him sane and yet even that they were not able to achieve. He could feel his sanity slipping away as he saw the rose petals falling to the ground around him anew like drops of blood. The smell of freshly baked cookies was still in his nose and he felt oh so tired as he closed his eyes again and tried to drown in these endless plains of snow so that the pain of his actions could never harm him again. The last thing that he heard right next to his ear before he lost consciousness again was his brother’s words spoken in that gentle voice that was so very much Gabriel’s. »We have big plans for that fish.«

****

**-End of Chapter 14-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year! <3 <3 <3

Sam Winchester all but dragged his body up the staircase of his apartment building. The elevator was broken again and slowly but surely, Sam started to question his sanity for still paying the complete rent to his cormorant landlord. He was probably not as smart as he always thought he was and Jessica would probably agree on that with him, he mused as he forced his feet up the stairs one step after the other. Had there ever been a day that had felt like absolute crap, it was this day right here. In fact, he felt as if this day had beaten the piss out of him with a baseball bat wrapped in barbwire for crying out loud. Maybe that was his punishment for committing his older brother to the mental asylum because, yes, he was still feeling guilty about that one, as he realized stopping at the landing on his floor and taking in a deep breath of the dingy air.

His eyes fell on his apartment door immediately and yet he didn't move on at first. Although he was looking forward to coming home, sitting down on his sofa and having Jessica around him, he also dreaded the moment. Jessica was the sweetest person he had ever met and yet, she would immediately see that something wasn't right and would try to console him and make him feel better. Sure thing, that was only the natural thing to do in a relationship and yet, Sam was growing tired of Jessica always reassuring him that he was doing the right thing. For once, he just wanted someone to tell him what an asshole brother he really was. Maybe he should talk to Adam about that, he thought. The kid and he got along quite well, actually, whenever they would talk on the phone or meet. Yet, Sam didn't want to involve the boy in all of this. Adam knew, of course, that he had another older brother despite Sam, but he had never asked about Dean after Sam had told him that he had left him and his dad behind. Adam still didn't even know that their father was dead. Sam could just not bring himself to tell him. Adam had had a very different kind of relationship to their father than Sam or Dean had and he didn't want to crush that boy’s heart. Especially not now that he had to focus on school so much. The boy was only sixteen, after all. Soon he would apply for college and Sam could only hope that his little brother would actually do something productive with his life, unlike their older brother.

Now that he came to think about it, had it not been for Jessica, he would have probably never known that Adam even existed. It had been Jessica's idea to go to Windom with him for some odd reason that he couldn't even remember now anymore. There had been some art thing Jessica had wanted to see and so, being a good boyfriend, he had went with her to Windom in Minnesota. Sometimes it was fascinating how coincidence worked. Sure, Jessica had called it fate, that out of all the cars that Sam could have spotted, it had been his father's car in this quiet suburban neighborhood. First, he hadn't recognized the car. Dean had gotten the Impala for his eighteenth birthday and ever since his father had driven a much more modern car than his own son. Yet, as he had recognized the car, Sam had pushed it aside, thinking that his father was working a case, as he called it, in this neighborhood and actually felt sorry for the people living there. This had all changed as he had seen his dad with Adam for the first time on that same day in that same town. After that, it hadn't taken Sam long to figure everything out.

To this day, he wasn't sure if he should be thankful or not. Having a younger brother had always been kind of his dream if he was honest. He had had the best role model in Dean for sure, he had seen how much his brother had loved being a big brother and he had wanted to be just like Dean in this regard. As he had learned about Adam, however, he had felt betrayed at first and found just one more reason to hate his own father, before he had found the courage to allow himself to love his younger sibling regardless of their father’s actions. It wasn't Adam’s fault, after all, and Sam still wondered how Dean would see it when he would get out of the loony bin - _if_ he would get out. He hadn't taken the news too well, all in all.

Could he blame him, though? Dean and his father had always been a very close team. Dean had worshipped the very ground their father had been walking on. If Sam had already felt the sting of betrayal learning about Adam, he couldn't imagine how much this revelation had hurt his older brother. And yes, he felt sorry because he made his brother hurt so much in such a desperate situation. Dean didn't deserve this. Dean didn't deserve being locked up. Dean didn't deserve being treated so badly by his younger brother whom he had pretty much raised. Dean didn't deserve what he had put on him and yes, Sam had a hard time looking in the mirror as of late.

And sometimes he didn't want Jessica to comfort him in these moments. Sometimes, he just wanted to sit down and feel the weight of his own guilt without being told that he was doing the right thing. Maybe he was behaving a little unreasonable himself, now that he came to think about his motives and actions. Well, if his brother was in the loony bin and his father dead, he might have every right in the book to behave just a tiny bit unreasonable.

As he finally wrestled himself free from these dark thoughts and got moving again towards his apartment door, he quickly grew aware of the sounds coming from inside. He could hear voices and for the briefest moment, Sam was struck with horror at the thought that Bobby might have come back and was now talking to Jess. He loved the old drunk, no questions asked, but he was just as cuckoo as the rest of Sam's family and he didn't wish him to talk to Jess about all these crazy theories of his. Jess was not gullible by no means and yet, she was a whole lot more spiritual than Sam and always inclined to believe in some higher power.

So, fueled by these thoughts, Sam was a whole lot quicker than usual as he pulled his keys out of the front pocket of his jeans to open the door to his apartment. »Honey, I'm home!« Sam introduced his arrival at the apartment the moment he stepped inside as he usually did when he came home from a stressful day. The door closed behind him with a creak and a small soft _thud_ before he aimlessly threw his keys into the small ugly ceramic bowl on the side table right next to the door. They were actually in possession of a key-cabinet because Sam had wanted one after they had moved in - just one normal thing that Sam had always thought all normal people had in their homes and would use for their keys. Needless to say, they didn't use it but threw their keys in this ugly ass bowl that Jess had gotten as a gift from some girlfriend of hers a while ago. Apparently, normal people did in fact not use their key-cabinets and that in and of itself gave him the soft and fuzzy feeling that, yes, he was indeed a normal person now that he had broken free from his weird family.

His bag he placed beside the side table without bothering too much to put it away properly just now. He would need it anyway again later. »Oh, we have a visitor?« He smiled as he stepped around the corner to walk into the main room of their apartment, which included their small kitchen, dining area and living room. They were cheap-ass college students, after all. Like hell they could afford another room. They weren't fancy like that. He found his girlfriend with another woman sitting on the sofa with their backs towards Sam as he entered the room, but both of them turned around to look at him from behind the backrest of the sofa as if he was some kind of strange looking moose-man. Jess smiled widely at him and although it was this very smile he had come to love, something seemed off about it. His brother had already infected his mind, as it seemed. He started to see weird things behind every corner now. Was this maybe how it had begun for his father and Dean too? Was this their paranoia infecting him now too? Some mental illnesses can run in the family, after all. Better not ponder about it too much, he guessed.  

»Sam! Oh, you’re home early today, Hon.« Jess smiled and motioned him to step closer, which she wouldn't have needed for Sam was curious anyway. In fact, it took him a moment to recognize the other woman that was sitting beside his girlfriend. Meg Masters was the last person he would have expected to find in his apartment and he wasn't too sure how to feel about her being here. Had she, in the end, made up her mind and decided that she would sue Dean after all? He couldn't hold it against her if she had. His brother had messed this poor woman up quite badly, as it seemed. She was still sporting a bandage on her left hand where Dean had caught her with his knife as Sam realized stepping closer and a nasty cut on her bottom lip. His brother had always had a bad temper, but he would have never thought him capable of attacking a woman. His brother was a neanderthal in many aspects, but Sam had always been quite proud of how well and polite Dean had always treated women, no matter their age or their appearance. His brother was the man who made every woman feel comfortable in his presence. His brother was the man who allowed some overweight chick to eat a whole package of donuts in his presence without feeling bad about it. And he was the man who always saw the beauty in every woman around him. And that simply was something that could not be taught. Yet, he had attacked Meg.

»Miss Masters« Sam addressed her as politely as he could possibly muster without showing too much how nervous her presence was making him.

»Meg.« She corrected with a friendly smile. »It's Meg, no need for being extra polite just because your brother tried to murder me twice.« At least she seemed to possess a good sense of  humor. Of course, all of this could just be a front and she would soon hit him with a real hard blow right to the guts. He didn't know that woman, after all.

»Meg.« Sam repeated with a smile. »I'm surprised to see you here. I mean … After all that happened. And I - I wanted to tell you how sorry I am for what my brother did. It's not like him to-« He stopped himself mid-sentence only to brush a hand through his long hair and drag it down his face afterwards. He shouldn't try to defend his brother in the face of his victim. That he had already learned by now. Victims never reacted too well when a family member of their attacker would start a sentence with ‘It's not like them to’ because it shifted the blame from the attacker to the victim implying that something the victim had done provoked the attacker to act outside their norm. »I never thought him capable of doing something like this.«

»It's not your fault, Sam.« Meg assured him calmly. »And heck, I’m still alive, aren't I? You are not responsible for your brother’s actions and that's not why I came here anyway. I didn't come here to attack any of you guys. But your girlfriend has been so nice and supportive last time we’ve met - You see, I’m new in town, I don't know many people yet. I know, odd for a waitress.«

Now he was really taken by surprise. »Oh, no I get it!« He was quick to assure Meg as he glanced at Jess. Well, his girlfriend had always been a social butterfly and a magnet for people - a little bit like Dean too. Sure, his brother had never had friends as far as Sam could tell, but he had been a magnet for people all his life regardless. All this potential that his brother had and that their father had destroyed through alcoholism and monster stories … It was frustrating, really. »How are you feeling, though?« He then quietly addressed the damage his brother had inflicted upon her. This whole situation was beyond awkward. At least Meg seemed to be a nice girl and although he was not too comfortable with Jess befriending his brother’s victim, she probably deserved a chance after what Dean did to her.

»Oh … I’m already a lot better, don't worry, Sam. The stitches in my hand were already removed yesterday. I’ve seen worse. My last boyfriend was an abusive asshole.« She smirked. »Your brother was nothing against him. Still I can't deny that I was frightened to leave the bar alone at night afterwards for quite a while - Still am, if I’m honest.«

Sam lowered his eyes on instinct as if it had been him who had attacked this woman. Despite what anyone said, he still felt responsible. And yes, of course, there was more to this whole situation than just the physical injury that Dean had inflicted upon her. Were their placed swapped, Sam would have quitted his job at that bar already and never even left the house again in fear of something like this happening ever again. Meg seemed to be quite fierce, though. »I can imagine.« He mumbled more to himself than anything else. »Hey … If you need anything, I would be glad to help, Meg. That's the least I could do after what my brother did to you. So … If you need a ride or something, I would be glad to help.«

Meg slowly rose from the sofa at this and stepped around it just to put a hand on Sam’s left biceps. Now he really felt uncomfortable, although Jess did not seem bothered at all. »As I said, Sam, you're not responsible for your brother’s actions. But I appreciate your offer very much. I'm just glad that your brother now gets the help that he needs.« Somehow this phrase started to hurt the more often Sam got to hear it from others around him. He didn't quite know what it was about these words, but it hurt. It hurt saying it. It hurt thinking it. It hurt hearing it from others. He loved his brother, he had always loved his brother and now Dean was suffering and wasting away inside this asylum with all these truly insane people. He knew he was.

Meg left around ten minutes after Sam had come back home with more reassuring words and friendly flowery phrases that left him feeling more empty than before even though they were meant as honest and gentle advice and reminders that Dean was his own man shaped by the experiences of his past. He felt drained as he closed the door behind Meg.

»You look tired.« Jessica gently smiled as Sam finally grabbed his bag to pull out his laptop. He had, after all, still work to do and he didn't want to keep discussing Dean any further today and yet, Jessica seemed not willing to give him another chance as Sam glanced at her and found her staring right back at him.

»It's just, ever since Dean came back into my life, it seems my entire life seems to revolve around him and what's wrong with him and I just want my life back.« He frowned over his own words and Jessica's raised eyebrows. »Yes, I know, don't look at me like that. I know that I'm whining here while Dean sits in a padded cell and probably sings _Old Macdonald_ on repeat by now, okay? I know that I don't have any right to whine like that.«

»But you have every right, Honey.« Well, wasn't that reply a surprise! The old Jessica would have indeed set his head straight for being such a whiny selfish little brat. Apparently, this whole ordeal with Dean seemed to have messed with her more than he had thought it would. Jessica was a fierce, independent woman and so it was indeed a surprise that this situation took such a toll on her.

»You scare me when you agree with me.« Sam smirked humorlessly before he flopped down on the sofa and was immediately swallowed whole by the soft cushions of this people-eating monster that they had bought second-hand and put in their home so very recklessly. The sofa had been cheap - too cheap, which in hindsight gave him reason for the suspicion that the previous owners had been eaten by that bloody thing too. He needed to be very careful now. »I'm not used to that, Jess. I feel much more at ease when you scold me for being stupid.«

»But you are right.« Jessica insisted as she joined him on the dangerous piece of furniture once more and as he scoffed, she just punched him in the arm. That was more like her again. »You are, Sam!« She added a little more forceful now. »I mean, our life was quite perfect beforehand, wasn't it? We had everything under control, everything as it was supposed to be and all of the sudden your brother comes back into your life and everything goes downhill from there as if he is cursed or something. Up is down and down is up! He turned our whole world on its head - so why wouldn't you have the right to be angry and whine a little about that very fact?«

He paused and used this moment of reflection as he stared at his laptop screen. This was so very odd of her. »It's either get up your lazy ass and do something about it or stop complaining.« He finally said before he glanced at her again. »That's what you always said when I started bitching about stuff.«

»Did I?« Jessica smiled and brushed her long fingers through his hair gently to push it back behind his right ear. »Well, I think sometimes it's in order to bitch about stuff we can't change. And you can't change that your life revolves around your brother for now.«

»Can't I?« He sighed and was tempted to lean into her touch as she so masterfully combed her fingers through his hair. »I could just try and be a better brother, I guess? I could try and talk to Bobby again to set all of this straight for once. I could give Dad’s diary to Dr. Whitman. There's so much I could do, I guess. I could even try talking to my brother again.«

»Sam, no, Honey. We saw how that went down last time.«

»Yes, we did. But he's my brother, Jess. My big brother. All I know I know because of him. All I am, I am because of him. Because he wouldn't give up on me, because he would be there to make sure I have enough to eat, because he would make sure I would do my homework on time and go to school, because he read me stories and nurtured my love for books and school. Not Dad, Jessica, it was Dean who did all of this for me. He was the one protecting me from nightmares as a child and who assured me that there were no monsters under my bed and who helped me deal with being on the road so much and having to forgo friendships. It was always Dean and me against the rest of the world.«

»Until it wasn't.«

»Until it wasn't.« He repeated with a sigh. »Until I decided to be an ungrateful whiny brat and leave my brother. I couldn't care less if I left Dad, you know? But Dean … I left Dean. I was so frustrated with him because of his unfaltering loyalty to our father and because he would always blindly just do what this man told him to do. I was so very fed up with him because of this and because he didn't seem to have an opinion of his own _ever_. I should have known better. I should have known that this isn't Dean’s fault and that he needed me. I should have forced him to come with me and not leave him. Instead, I yelled at him and I fought with him and I called him an idiot.«

»You were a kid, Sam. A teenager. We all did stupid shit when we were teenagers.« Jessica assured him gently before she got up again, escaping the hungry sofa. He just hummed in agreement while listening to her movement as she walked around the sofa and made her way into the kitchen. He knew that she was right. He had been a stupid teenager with his hormones raging all over the place and having wild orgies in his brain - and Dean hadn't been too easy himself. His brother had always been just so frustratingly stubborn.

As Sam jolted awake this night drenched in sweat, Jess was not beside him in the bed. This was the very first thing he noticed. It was humid and hot inside the apartment as if the AC had been shut off - but hell, who would do that in the middle of summer in California, right? First, he was sure that the heat was what woke him up sweaty but as he swung his legs over the edge of his bed and shook his head as if to get it clear, he remembered the dream he had.

He hadn't dreamed about the night he left for Stanford for a long time but for some reason, his subconsciousness had decided that tonight was the right moment to do just that as if to add gasoline to the fire of his guilty consciousness. His own brain was trying to fry him alive as it seemed. Was he surprised, though? No, probably not. It was just somehow very fitting to him. As he rose from the bed to go looking for Jessica who had probably moved to the couch because of the heat that would radiate from Sam’s body, his brother’s face was still etched in his brain, the sting of betrayal clear in his brother’s green eyes as Sam had taken his bag and shouldered it and his father's booming loud voice echoing in his head. _If you walk through that door, boy, you’re not coming back_. That's what his father had told him and Sam had been willing to take his word on that.

Why would he want to go back to a family that wouldn't support him anyway? As he looked back on that fateful night, he had been sure Dean would grab his stuff and come after him, just them against the rest of the world despite their fight, despite their differences and he had seen how torn he had been, but in the end, his brother had decided to stay with their father instead, letting Sam go and staying behind, and to this day this was something Sam would never be able to understand. Stockholm Syndrome seemed oddly fitting in addressing his brother’s real issue with their father. He had never been their father's son, he had always been their father's captive. Not an equal, not a hunting partner, not an alley, only the help, someone his father could load all his issues and shit and self-pity onto, someone who still would walk up to him and try to console his father, try to make him feel better. And it was just so very perverse thinking about it now.

Dean probably didn't even know that Sam knew that their father had beaten the crap out of Dean at every given opportunity when they thought that Sam wouldn't notice. And yet, his father could have beaten him bloody at one moment and at the next, Dean would collect his broken bones and walk up to him to assure his father that everything was alright and that they were a team. Dean was not a punching ball. He had never been one to accept being attacked or beaten in any way by anyone. His brother was a vicious fighter, at least that much Sam had to give him credit for. He was fighting dirty if he had to and he could hold his own and yet when _Daddy_ raised his fist at Dean, there would be nothing left of that strong fighter Sam had adored in his youth.

The worst part in all of this was not Dean’s weakness at the sight of their father, it was their father who took advantage of this weakness, who knew about Dean’s weakness and who would turn it against him. He lured him in with the promise of praise only to beat him down more viciously than ever before. It was disgusting. And the end of all of this? His brother had lost his mind because of their father's death.

As Sam found Jessica awake in front of the TV, mindlessly switching channels with the volume turned so low that it was hard to hear anything at all, Sam knew that not only the heat was keeping her awake. She wouldn't show it too much, but this whole ordeal with Dean was putting a strain on her too. That was just who Jessica Moore was. She cared for the people around her and Dean was in her eyes now a part of her life and her family. She cared. For a moment he thought to call out for her, ask her to go back to bed, but then he decided to give her a little space to think and turned back around. Sam knew that it was his turn to collect the pieces of his brother’s broken mind and put them back together now after what their father, John Winchester, had done to his big brother - and no matter what Jessica would say about this, that was exactly what he was going to do no matter how much Dean would try to fight against him.

※※※※※※※

Dean wouldn't have thought that his brother would actually give him a second chance. He wouldn't have thought that Sam would be willing to visit him again after he had broken his nose the last time he came and confronted Dean about their younger brother Adam. Yet, as Dean stepped into the visitation room, he found his little brother sitting close to one of the large windows that were overlooking the park. Only once had Dean been to the park before but, of course, now after the thing with Castiel, he had lost all his privileges and thus wasn't allowed to visit the park again anytime soon. What a shame.  

Sam didn't seem to have noticed him at first as he looked outside the window. His nose was still all patched up. However, his brother’s head spun around just as the door was closed behind Dean by one of the nurses. For a long moment, they just stared at one another across the room like in some cheesy chick-flick before Dean started moving again and dragged his tired body through the elongated rectangular room towards his baby brother. Just because he had started canoodling with another man in here did not mean he could be a sissy.

»I didn't thought I would see you here again.« Dean greeted his brother as he sat down across from Sam. He did give his very best not to sound too condescending or threatening right away. He didn't wish to fight even though he had all the right reasons to fight with his brother, he assumed. Still, he did want to give his brother a chance now that Sam had come here to talk to him once again. No matter how futile this might be.

»I didn't think I would find myself here again either anytime soon.« Sam admitted as calmly as he could as they were facing each other now. There was only this round wooden table between them and yet it seemed as if they were worlds apart from one another. Sam was on the other side of the world, swept away by an ocean of regret and sorrow and lost opportunities. There was a long pause between them and neither one of them seemed to have the right words as they looked everywhere but at each other.

»Hey« Dean suddenly turned to Sam again and placed his hands leisurely on the table top, drumming his fingers as if to get Sam’s attention. It worked, as his brother looked at him again. Fuck, underneath his shaggy brown hair was still the same little boy with the same ridiculously large puppy eyes which power he still had not fully under control yet. »Remember when you were five years old and you jumped off that shed because you thought you could fly?«

»After you jumped first.« Sam huffed rolling his eyes ever so slightly. Ah, yes, his brother’s prized bitch-face.

»Hey, I was nine and I was dressed up like Superman, okay? Everybody knows that Batman can't fly.«

»I didn't know that!« Sam immediately shot back with a dry laugh leaving his throat. »I broke my arm!«

»I know you did.« Dean laughed as he was relishing the memory that was playing out in front of his very eyes as he looked at his little brother now. Hell, he could still hear his brother scream and oh, how much he had panicked! They had been alone at some house his father had rented somewhere in Minnesota for a while, with their father gone on a hunt not too far away. He could laugh about it now but back then … Back then his heart had stopped as he had found his little brother lying on the ground and writhing in pain. »And I drove you to the ER on my handlebars.« He couldn't help but smile fondly at the memory despite the horror this incident had meant to him back then, and even Sam managed a smirk. Wouldn't they be here now, Dean imagined, maybe they would have a beer and just act as if none of the crap before had happened like brothers were supposed to. »Heh - Good times.«

»Yeah, they were.« Sam replied after a moment of contemplation before he cleared his throat and yet Dean knew that, no, they were not forgetting about the crap before. Sam’s words sounded too final, too decidedly against their relationship as brothers. Too much time had passed, too much had happened and there was no way Dean would ever be able to make it up to his brother now. He had come back into Sam's life like a wrecking ball with no care in the world what his return might do to Sam and his life here in California or his relationship with this girl, Jessica.

»Heck« He then scoffed, playing with his fingers on the table as he lowered his gaze on his hands. »And as Dad came back…« He stopped himself, his face a mask of stubborn refusal to accept what had happened and the nervous twitching smile that he always had when there was something dark he needed to confront but rather didn't want to. And yes, he needed to confront this now. He needed to be open to Sam because, despite everything he chose to believe, Sam was not a small child anymore. »Fuck, Sammy … As Dad came back from wherever he was on that day and saw your broken arm … You know … If monsters would truly exist, I’m sure that our dad would have been one of them. That day I learned what hell was, believe me.«

This time he could feel Sam's eyes resting upon him with such intent that they were burning straight through him. He didn't need to look up to know the way Sam was staring at him. A mixture of terror and surprise, without a doubt. »Dean-« Even his voice sounded thin now but Dean interrupted him before his brother could continue.

»Listen, Sammy, and listen good because I'm not going to repeat that, okay? You know I'm not much for these chick-flick moments, but I'm afraid this place is doing something to me - making me soft or something.« Dean said looking up sharply before he looked out of the window once more. He just couldn't look Sam in the eyes, not when he was trying to tell him the truth - for once. »I always tried to keep this from you and by now I know that I didn't quite succeed. Still, I never wanted you to know what kind of a man Dad was. Maybe I didn't want to admit it to myself, you know? I just couldn't deal with the truth, I think. To me, Dad was always a hero. You don't remember Dad how I remember him before Mom's death. You don't know how he used to be. But I do and that's why I chose to cling to this man that died that night in Lawrence together with Mom only to become the fanatic we got to know later.« He dragged his left hand through his short hair. Would he ever try growing his hair out now that his father wasn't there anymore to insult him whenever it would be just an inch too long in his eyes? Or would this clean-cut stay with him forever just like Daddy wanted him to look like? »Our Dad was an obsessive, abusive and negligent asshole, Sam and that's the truth. He wasn't always, though. He tried to be good. He loved us despite everything more than his own life but this doesn't change a thing about what he did, right? I was his punching ball - that's it. As he came back that day and saw your broken arm … Heck, you were already your usual cheerful self, you know? You were actually quite proud and couldn't wait for the other kids to sign your cast and Dad played along. But, Sam, as soon as you went to sleep that night, he beat the crap out of me. And that's not just some flowery little phrase either. That night he beat me up so badly that he only stopped as I puked all over that god-damned carpet.«

»Dean … I didn't know … If I had known…«

»You wouldn't have been able to do anything, Sam.«

»Yes, I would have! At least I could have made him vent out his anger on the both of us!«

»Dad« He stopped himself there again but then forced himself to continue. It was now or never. »Dad would have never hit you, Sam.« He confessed and though none of this was his fault, it really did feel like a confession. »Dad doted on you, Sam. From the beginning. He loved me too, but _my_ dad died in Lawrence. The dad who tugged me in and read me a bedtime story every night. The dad who carried me around the house and held me close and made me feel safe. I was his perfect little soldier, his blunt tool ever since. And … Yes, sometimes I hated you because of this. Sometimes I didn't understand why he doted on you and beat the shit out of me. Later, I thought that I was a reminder of his life before the fire, of Mom and that he just couldn't bear looking at me because I look so much like her, while you were so very much like him.« He could see how Sam wanted to interrupt him again, but Dean was quicker. »And then … later, I started to think that I deserved it. I could never quite say why I would deserve this, but I started to think I did. I started to think that I did deserve every punch and every kick and every insult. I deserved to be put down constantly, that I deserved to be put in charge of you like I was the adult and not a child myself.«

As Sam grabbed the hands that were still lying on the tabletop in front of Dean, the move was so quick it almost startled him and forced him to look at his younger brother now that Sam was all but clutching his hands in an ironclad grip. »But you didn't deserve this!« Sam frowned and his voice was dark with anger. »You didn't deserve what he put on you. Dad was the one who couldn't protect his family, Dean! You did everything for me and I know that! You are the reason why it was even possible for me to go to Stanford and do something with my life! Not Dad! _You!_ You didn't deserve how this asshole treated you and I wished I would have known everything sooner.«

»And then what?« Dean scoffed but his throat felt already hoarse.

»I would have given Dad a taste of his own medicine.«

»Don't be ridiculous, Sammy.« He said with a small grunt and pulled his hands free as if Sam’s touch was suddenly scalding his skin. He didn't know why he felt so uneasy being touched by his own brother all of the sudden, but he was. He hardly recognized himself anymore. »Anyway … I just wanted to tell you all of this to show you that … That I am getting better, I guess. I am making progress, I think.«

»So you're not angry that I committed you anymore?« The tone was almost playful, but Dean could hear the very serious worry seeping through.

»No, I guess not. You did what you thought was right - and you _were_ right. I need help, Sam. I get this now. I start to realize that … that all of this … the monsters and demons and hunting was just delusions and thinking about it this way … Crap, Sam, it scares me. How many people did I hurt or kill because I thought they were monsters?« Not to mention how many graves he had desecrated with his father to get rid of some ghost. »I have always read about people getting so riled up in their delusions that they believe them to be true even on a physical level but I never thought something like this could happen to me. Yet … It did, didn't it? There's no other explanation than that. I'm crazy. I thought I was saving the world … while in fact I was running around hurting and killing people. Fuck … If anyone _I_ am the real monster.«

And admitting this was the worst in all of this. Admitting that he was the one responsible for so much pain and hurt was the last nail in his coffin. How would he ever be able to move on from this? How would he be able to go forward and never face his crimes? Why would he even deserve a life outside this asylum after everything he had done in the past?

»Do you know that movie with Matthew McConaughey? Frailty, I think. The one with that religious fanatic father whose visions led to a series of murders in his quest to destroy demons?« Sam nodded quietly. »Yeah … That's how I feel now, you know? That’s our story, Sam, right there. The only difference is that Dad dragged us from state to state instead of living a remote country life. I can see that now and I'm afraid of what waits for me out there in the real world now. And yes, you heard me right there, little brother: I am afraid.«

And that was something Dean Winchester would never willingly admit to in his life of twenty nine years. Yet, here he sat, facing his younger brother who had his life under perfect control, who was a complete success story despite everything he had gone through in his life already, and Dean, who should know all the answers and the right path to follow as the older of them, had no idea how his life would continue from this moment onwards. And that scared the crap out of him.

 

**-End of Chapter 15-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3
> 
> Maybe you'll like my new work: http://archiveofourown.org/works/13190916/chapters/30172848


	16. Chapter 16

This morning, Dean was beyond surprised to find Castiel sitting at one of the tables in the dining room, as Dean entered, hungry and ready to stuff his face. By now, after over a month had passed since he ended up here, he got used to having regular meals and proper food that did not taste like wet carton half the time or came out of a can. Still, his initial joy of finding Cas in the dining room after over a week of the angel not being present at all, his smile faltered a little. Though Castiel had a plate of food in front of him, he was not eating, instead, he was reading and even from afar Dean could see that it was the Bible that was lying on the table next to his plate yet again. It seemed they were back to square one and Castiel looked just as horrible, if not worse than he had as Dean had first found him in the dining room weeks ago.

He still didn't know why exactly Cas had ended up in the padded cells this time and he was still blaming himself for it. Maybe he should stay away from his only friend in here. Apparently, his sole presence was toxic, as the little voice in the back of his head so helpfully supplied. Hadn't it been for Dean’s bad influence on the angel, maybe Castiel would be already a whole lot better. Or a whole lot worse, the angel on his shoulder gently coaxed.

Castiel had not yet noticed him and so, Dean prompted his body into motion again as he went to grab his own breakfast and sat down opposite of Castiel. Only then did the angel look up at him out of tired blue eyes. It was clear that Castiel had hardly slept in the last week. Perhaps because of the nightmares? Perhaps because Dean hadn't been with him? He himself had hardly slept either and so he answered Castiel’s tired eyes with an equally tired smirk.

»You look like crap, Feathers.« He said as he grabbed for his plastic fork, hoping that Cas might have waited for Dean to start eating but when he didn't start eating too, Dean frowned.

»That was not nice.« Castiel replied and his voice sounded even deeper and darker than usual, almost as if he had either drunk a whole bottle of whiskey and smoked a pack of cigarettes before breakfast or as if he had screamed his lungs out previously. »I could say the same thing about you.«

»Not nice, no.« Dean chuckled as he managed to maneuver the first fork full of scrambled eggs into his mouth. »But the truth and hey, a handsome guy like me always looks hot.«

»A hot mess.« Castiel's frown was a little too critical for Dean’s liking, but he smirked at him nonetheless before he reached over the table to close the damn book and push Castiel's own plastic fork into the angel's hand.

»Still hot, though.« He grinned sheepishly and couldn't help but wiggle his eyebrows. Whatever had happened inside the padded cell or beforehand, Castiel's mood was as bad as if his favorite uncle had been eaten alive by an angry rabbit monster. And Dean Winchester wouldn't be Dean Winchester, would he not try and cheer up his only friend in this hellhole. Well, his only friend in the whole wide world, actually.

Cheering up a depressed angel proved to be quite the fickle task though. Castiel almost did not talk at all to him during breakfast. His answers were brisk and quiet as if he was afraid to say too much or anything at all while the nurses were in such a close proximity that they might overhear anything that they would talk about. At least that was the suspicion Dean had.

Dean didn't want to admit it, as they later sat in the common room, but yes, he would have loved to put his arm around Cas’ shoulders and pull him in for a kiss. He could feel the urge doing just that, just like he had always felt this urge when being confronted with an attractive woman, but he could feel the eyes of the nurses on him. They were still being watched very closely by absolutely every member of the staff but at least, they weren't forcing them apart just now. At least, they were still allowed to hang out in this madhouse. If not for the time he would be able to spend with Castiel, he would truly fall into madness. Castiel was his island of sanity in this ocean of madness and depravity, as cheesy as that might sound, but that was just how he truly felt as of this moment - and a part of him started to really worry what that might mean for the state of mind he was currently in.

»Hey, Snowflake.« Dean addressed the man who sat perched on the couch inside the common room next to him, staring at the television as if that was truly all that mattered now, biting his nails. Dean had decided to conquer these spots on the sofa for them and wrestled the remote control from a guy named Jake who didn't really care for what was on as long as he had a spot in the front row. Currently, there were cartoons running and Castiel seemed mesmerized. For just this moment, Dean felt the pang of longing for the old Castiel, for the man who had spent hours reading and reading or talking to Dean but now he all but ignored him as it seemed. It was odd. »Maybe it's enough with the cartoons now?«

»No« Castiel was suddenly very quick and eager to answer and grabbed Dean’s hand with the remote without even looking at what he was doing. »Not yet, let me see the end of the episode.« Castiel never ceased to amaze him, that much was certain. Dean couldn't help but smirk as he looked from his friend to the cartoon. Castiel's eyes were glued to the screen like that of a child who watched cartoons for the very first time. Well, if he was an angel, that was probably true, he assumed.

»Alright Pal, just this one episode.« Dean chuckled and leaned back further into the sofa cushions. He had spent hours of his life watching cartoons in dingy hotel rooms with his brother in his lap, sitting way too close in front of the TV until their eyes would start to hurt from it. And Castiel … As Dean looked at him again as the episode ended, seemed almost in a better mood.

»Now I understand perfectly.« Castiel finally addressed Dean with a small smile creeping up his tired looking face. »The bird represents God and coyote is man, endlessly chasing the divine yet never able to quite catch him. It's … It's hilarious.« The way he was talking, how big and joyous his blue eyes turned as he spoke about that cartoon and it's deeper meaning, was almost too precious not to want to kiss that weird-ass man. No matter what anyone would tell Dean - how could Castiel not be some alien creature when he could say these things with such a sincerity? One thing he knew for certain, however and whenever he would get out of this asylum, he wouldn't leave without Castiel.

»Well, if you say so, Cassie.« Dean smirked and patted his leg before he switched channels. A sharp whistle granted him Jake’s attention and as the young man’s head turned, Dean threw the remote. Jake caught it safely and gathered the bloody thing to his chest like some kind of precious treasure. Now that he came to think about it, he _did_ look a little like Gollum too. »So, Cas« He cleared his throat and turned his body to face Castiel a little more - and maybe to escape the urge to put an arm around him. »tell me: Why did Dr. Whitman send you to the padded cell this time? Why did you attack him? What did he do to you to make you lose your shit?«

»I … I don't want to talk about it.« Castiel was quick to avert his gaze as he looked down at his hands which were now fidgeting with the legs of his loose pants. »I … I don't … How are you, Dean?« For a moment, he wanted to press on. He wanted to ask him more about this, he wanted to pry answers from Cas and yet he was aware that this would be futile and he didn't want him to retreat back into his shell again.

»Me?« He replied cocking his head to the side. »Peachy, I guess.« Castiel's squinty-eyed look clearly told the tale of a man who didn't buy his bullshit, as the angel looked at him from the side, his head ever so slightly tilted to the right. »Well, Sam was here, the other day. Came to visit, came to talk.«

»Oh.« The sound was honestly surprised judging by the way his eyes grew again. »And … how did it go?«

Dean took his time, as he dragged one hand through his hair to think of what he was going to say. He probably shouldn't have a hard time thinking of an answer, he assumed and yet, the answer didn't present itself to him right away. Yes, how did it go? »We actually talked this time, so that's a step in the right direction I would assume. I think … I think when I get out, I might be able to rekindle my relationship with my brother. You know, like in the good old days when my brother would still call me Deano and look at me like I was Captain America.«

»Deano?«

He couldn't bite down on the fond little chuckle that escape him. »When Sam was little, he had a hard time saying my name and he was obsessed with dinosaurs until he was at least ten years old - so for the first few years of his life I was Deano for him.« He could still remember how his baby brother had addressed him like this, his face so honestly proud of himself when he would call his brother that name and see Dean’s face lit up in a smile. »He stopped calling me that somewhere along the way, though.« He smirked, his thoughts still trailing after those memories for another second or two as if he was trying to catch up to them, as if he would be able to catch them if he would be able to catch up. Then again, these good old times would never come back and maybe it was better this way.

»So you made up then? Are you still angry that Sam committed you to this hospital?«

»I don't think so.« It was still hard to grasp for him though. All of this was. »You know, Cas, I start to realize that maybe my brother and everyone else around me might be right. I think I _am_ crazy. I think I am here for a good reason. I need help, Cas. So no, I'm no longer angry, I guess. My brother wants to help me. And I think I can accept that I might be crazy. Only … Only the implications are what makes me afraid. Because if I am crazy, then I did a crap ton of real horrible things since I was old enough to join my dad.«

There was a moment of silence stretching out between them and growing from mere seconds into almost a minute or two. However, silence never felt uncomfortable with Cas, for some odd reason that Dean was not even close to describe. It was Cas who turned his body to fully face Dean after a while, stretching his arm over the backrest as he did so that the tips of his fingers almost reached Dean’s shoulder. »If I am Jimmy Novak … I did horrible things too.«

※※※※※※※

For the first time in weeks, Dean got to feel the sunshine on his face again and he didn't even care that he was currently kneeling in a patch of dirt to tend to various plants he didn't even know the names of. He knew quite a lot about all kinds of different herbs from his line of work, of course, but this was not his forte, so to say and this was pretty obvious too because it didn't take long until Dean Winchester was faced with the first bit of criticism coming from his right hand side.

»No, not like that, Dean.« Castiel frowned and almost took the small shovel out of his hand like he was nothing more than a small child playing with possible dangerous items. Well, then again, he could hurt someone with that little garden tool if he wanted to. He had always been creative when it came to weapons. Quite risky giving a crazy person something like this. Indeed, as Cas grabbed his hand with the shovel, there was a little hustle before Dean was willing to give up his toy.

»Well there, quite aggressive today, aren't we, Feathers?« Dean shrugged it off as he had to surrender the shovel to the other man only to have Castiel show him how to properly do what Dean had been about to do, which was replanting vegetables. One week had passed since Castiel had been released from the padded cells and though he seemed to slowly get better, Dean could see that his friend was still battling his demons from his week in captivity. He couldn't blame him. He knew, after all, what it was like to be locked up in these cells. Hell, he had tried to kill himself in beating his head against every hard surface he could find and tore out the padding from the walls to do so and that only after a few hours to the point where it had been necessary to tie him to his bed. So, yeah, Castiel had every right to be still a bit shaken up after a week in this hellhole.  

It was actually the first time for Dean to be able to come out here for quite some time and the first time that he had been entrusted with tending to their herb and vegetable garden at all, thanks to Castiel’s good influence, as it seemed. Only a few other patients were strolling about in this part of the garden while one of the nurses was keeping watch. Well, actually he was chatting with one of the security guards at the gate that separated this part of the garden from the park. Still, it was oddly peaceful and Dean found that he was enjoying working in the garden with Castiel who had no fear of getting his hands dirty.

»I don't mean to be aggressive.« Castiel mumbled as he looked up at Dean with hooded eyes before he placed the plant into the hole he had been digging and put the earth back on it again, gently patting it smooth. Their order today was to move various plants from pots into the new and much larger patch of fresh earth so that they could properly grow, and Castiel was doing a stellar job in doing just that and avoided destroying the roots of the plants. Dean had not as much _prestidigitation_ and so it was really not that big of a surprise that Castiel was eager to save the plants from Dean’s hands. His eyes and words were sincere, that at least Dean could clearly tell from the way his friend looked at him. Dean was almost tempted to brush his fingers over Castiel's cheek or lean down for a kiss like they were so used to by now, but he couldn't do it - not with the nurse or the security guard in sight.

»It's alright, we all have bad days.«

»It's not just that, Dean.« He sighed before returning to his own plants again. »It's … I feel like my aggression is getting out of hand and I’m afraid … I’m afraid of hurting anyone again.«

»You didn't hurt anyone, though.« This was the first thing that came to his mind, the thing that he wanted to say to make it clear to Castiel that he had his back no matter what and that he was not inclined to believe what other people might say about the angel. This was also not the wisest thing to say and Dean knew that very well. He had to keep reminding himself that he didn't really know this man. He knew Castiel as he was in here, but that person might not even exist out there. And yet somehow Dean clung to him.

This would probably be his downfall someday.

»How can you say that?« Castiel replied and as Dean looked at him again, he noticed how Castiel's eyes were turned to his task but not really looking at it either. He seemed frightened all of the sudden and the slight shiver running through the angel, did not escape Dean either. There was a certain sense of nervousness radiating from Castiel almost like an infectious disease. »You don't know if … If I …« But he stopped himself before he could say anything more than that until he found the courage to continue. »If I am James Novak … If I’m just crazy .. If I’m not Castiel … If Castiel doesn't really exist … What am I going to do then?«

There was not much time to think what he was going to do to make Castiel feel better, Dean decided as he threw a small glance over his shoulder back to the people that were supposed to watch them and who were still engaged in some conversation - probably about sports over a couple of cigarettes. It was always sports with these types of guys. Not that there was anything wrong with that, though. The vegetable garden was located in a small area of the park, divided from the rest of the park only by a decorative wooden fence with a wooden gate where the nurse and the security guard were standing as of right now. Cas and he were in the part of the garden that was a little further down and closer to the building were the plants were that needed a little more shadow. From here, they would be able to easily reach the old greenhouse as long as they would be able to sneak into the new greenhouse that was located just to the side of the area they were working in right now first, where most plants were kept during the winter months and where the tools were kept too.

As Dean noticed how one of the other patients walked up to the nurse and how both men then turned their backs further towards Castiel and Dean, Dean made the decision to just go for it. Of course, he was risking a lot again, but in this moment, he just didn't care. He pulled Castiel up, grabbing him hard around his left biceps just as he jumped up himself and hurried towards the door to the greenhouse as quickly and silently as he possibly could with the angel following him straight away, luckily.

»Dean, what are you-« Castiel began in a whisper after they snuck inside the greenhouse, but Dean didn't stop there, instead he pulled Castiel along further, never letting go of the shorter man although his hand had slipped from Castiel’s biceps to his hand by now. Last time he had been in this building, he had been able to see the backdoor that led to the old greenhouse that was no longer being used.

»Pssssst!« Was all Dean had to offer his friend as a response as they quickly snuck out through the back door and hurried into the other greenhouse only a few feet away. He could only hope that the nurse would not notice their disappearance for a moment or two. He didn't even know what he was going to do now that they were alone, all he knew was that he had wanted a bit of privacy. He didn't want anything more than that and was that really that much to ask? Because this was something that no one ever told the people that were coming into facilities like this right here: There was no such thing as privacy. There was no holing oneself up in their own room, there was no undisturbed showering or taking a bath, there were no completely private visits to the toilets. Being in a mental asylum meant being watched almost 24/7 - even at night. It was just like jail, only that in jail it was more obvious from the start and it didn't get sugarcoated by the staff.

Just as the door fell shut behind them with a tiny squeak, Dean saw how Castiel was about to open his mouth again to talk and ask once more what Dean was doing, but before he could, Dean just pulled him in quickly for a kiss he had waited far too long for. For the briefest of seconds, as their mouths found each other, Dean was almost afraid that he had maybe acted too quickly, that he might have jumped the gun on this situation and that Castiel might not be in the right mood for something like this at all right now, but his fear quickly dissipated as Castiel not only replied the kiss just as eagerly as Dean had started it but when he also could feel Castiel's hands on both sides of his face. They were dirty from the work in the garden but for the moment being, none of them really cared that much about something as unimportant as dirt.

When they broke apart, they were both already panting, but not pulling away completely. Instead, Dean just leaned forward again a bit more, just touching foreheads with the angel, their noses brushing together as he did so. He couldn't say that he had ever felt such a deep level of gravitational pull towards another human being. It was more than attraction. more than just his typical ‘Oh no, he’s hot’ kind of thing. But Dean was still unable to really put his finger on it and couldn't quite determine what it was exactly. It wasn't important anyway, he decided. He didn't need to clad it in words what he felt towards Castiel.

»I'm afraid.« Castiel finally spit out quietly. »I'm afraid to be Jimmy. I don't want to be Jimmy. But what if everyone is right and I am crazy? What if we are both crazy? If everyone is right and I’m just crazy, that would mean that I am truly human, that I am just Jimmy Novak. It would mean … It would mean that I killed my family, Dean.«

»So what?« He breathed. »Maybe we are crazy - So what? If we’re crazy and if everyone is right about us … Then there's nothing out there for us anyway.« Maybe that was not true, maybe he was just searching for things to say to Cas so that the angel might feel better again because he couldn't stand seeing him this upset, seeing the pain and fear in those ridiculously blue eyes at the thought of being a murderer. He was grasping for straws here and yet he knew how Cas felt. Because, yes, if they were crazy, if everything was true what everyone else was saying about them, then Dean had killed loads of people ever since his father took him on his first hunt. If that was all true, he was a monster and so was Castiel and that he refused to believe - and yet it was what he was starting to accept. And yes, if he was crazy, then he deserved to be locked up in here but at least then he would be able to stay locked up in here with Castiel for a little while longer.

»I remember it, Dean.« Castiel all but whispered now and he could feel his hot breath on his face as he did. »I remember killing my wife … I remember … I remember killing my daughter. I remember the blood and the screams but I don't know why I would ever have done something like that!« He was desperate and that was clear to see. His voice was wavering, he sounded like he was being choked and for once, Dean didn't know what to say or do. He knew that he shouldn't support Castiel in his delusions of being an actual angel and yet, everything else seemed cruel to him.

»You said it yourself, Cas: Why would you kill your own family? Why would you just snap, out of the blue, and kill the people you loved? Easy: Because you are not Jimmy!« Because he couldn't be Jimmy. Because Dean didn't want him to be Jimmy.

»But-«

»Do you remember anything else from being Jimmy, though? His childhood? His parents?« He knew that he had won right away as Castiel locked eyes with him. A faint smile started tugging on Dean's lips. »That's what I thought.« There was the tiniest flash of hope ghosting through Castiel's eyes and that was one hundred percent better than the deep sadness and guilt from before. It wasn't right, though. Castiel should be able to overcome his sickness, to get better and be free again. But for that, he would need to accept that he was Jimmy Novak first - just like Dean had to accept that there was no such thing as monsters and that he had been infected by his father's wild delusions all his life to the point where all of that had felt and looked real. Maybe he just didn't want to let Castiel escape his clutches, though. The longer it would take the angel to get better, the longer Dean would be able to keep him by his side. It was sick and yet the only thing he could think about now as he leaned down again to steal another kiss from Castiel's brittle lips, trailing his nose along of Castiel's on his way down. He had to be crazy, he decided. There was no way that he would feel this strongly for another man if he wouldn't be crazy, right? How sick needed one person to be to rather have another man go insane just to keep that man close? He was, apparently, completely corrupted by his own madness and for once, this thought did not fill him with dread as he dragged his fingers over Castiel's stubbly jaw and gently urged him backward and further into the greenhouse, further away from the door.

Only as Castiel hit one of the old tables with the back of his legs, did they stop although everything inside Dean screamed to push Castiel further, forcing him onto the table so that he could stand between his legs. He didn't, though. It was a moment of hesitation which made him lose the upper hand as it seemed because just as he came to this idea, Castiel turned them around swiftly and now it was Dean who was pressed against the table, his own legs spread wide as he had no other choice than sitting down and letting Castiel step between his own legs. Who would have thought that the angel would take over the initiative like this?

They shouldn't be doing this. That was what his mind screamed at him as their kisses only became more feverish now. They should not risk it. And yet there was no way of escaping this. No way out. No way to gain back control. The angel had him in his claws and Dean was just some pesky little human at the mercy of a celestial being. Only one thing was for certain as he felt how Castiel dragged his hands from Dean’s jaw down his neck and that was that the angel was just as desperate for this as he was and probably did have as much a clue as Dean as to why they both felt like this. Dean had already given up on telling himself that he was straight a long time ago. For once, because it wasn't true and secondly because he could not run around kissing another man and keep lying to himself and yet all of this was new to him. He had always felt attracted to men too but never acted upon it. His father would have straight out slaughtered him. Yet here he was, melting into Castiel's touch, desperate to get closer and closer as they fought for dominance with this kiss. It was different from what he had experienced with the women he had slept with. Castiel tasted differently, he smelled differently. And, God help him, he loved that smell and he loved that taste.

How was he ever going to resist this man?

Castiel’s hand roamed further down, trailing over Dean’s chest down to his stomach and the rim of his shirt. His dirty hands were probably leaving traces all over his clothes and skin and yet Dean didn't care as Castiel shoved up his shirt. Instead, he hummed in appreciation as he could feel Castiel's hands on his waist now, skin to skin with no barrier between them. Castiel pulled away from the kiss in an instant and stepped away from the table as if just now he had realized what he was doing there. »I’m…« He began and Dean could almost feel the word ‘sorry’ hanging in mid-air between them. Yet, Castiel knew better than to apologize. »We shouldn't…« He said instead quickly dropping his eyes to the floor as if searching for his lost courage before he looked straight at Dean again. »We should go back before anyone notices we’re gone.«

He was right. They should not risk it. The doctor's words had been pretty clear in that regard. They would get separated if they would be caught doing something naughty again and yet, Dean just jumped off the table and, without much hesitation, pulled his shirt over his head to drop it onto the floor. »I’m not going anywhere.« Dean breathed, quickly brushing off his shoes with a sly little smirk pulling on his lips as he did, because, yes, he noticed how Castiel’s eyes were immediately roaming down his naked chest and how he bit his lower lip in an attempt to stay focused. Oh hell, this was a look he had always enjoyed seeing on other people and it was not the first time he saw that look from another man directed at him for sure. However, it was the first time that Dean couldn't fight the urge to act upon it as he already felt the twitch in his nether regions at the mere thought of doing this now.

»Dean-«

»We already broke the rules again, Cas.« Dean huffed and stepped closer towards the angel only to hook his left index finger into the waistband of Castiel's pants to pull him closer. »It's just my bad influence on you, I guess. So, why not make it worth the punishment?« Dean could see and pinpoint the exact moment when every last bit of self-control dropped from Castiel’s mind and body to shatter loudly on the floor to their feet, as their bodies touched once more and their loins flushed hot against each other. He could feel how hard Castiel already was beneath the distracting clothes they both were still wearing and a silent little voice inside his head wondered if Castiel might be confused about this all _if_ he really was an angel.

Well, if he was, he didn't show it now that they were so close together again as he pulled own Dean to his level to ravish his mouth with no second guessing once more. The danger of being caught send electric sparks straight through Dean’s body and right into his crotch and there was really nothing he could do about it. He had always been a passionate lover and once he would start going at it, he was usually hard to stop. He knew himself well enough by now. However now, despite the danger of being caught and punished, he didn't want to rush anything with Castiel. And yet it was him who broke apart the kiss again only to swiftly pull the shirt over Castiel's head with a grin, leading his lips to Castiel's neck instead to taste the soft skin of the other man there.

Castiel was at least just as impatient as Dean was because the second Dean pressed his lips to his neck and bit down ever so gently, Castiel was already pulling at his pants, an impatient little moan escaping his red-kissed lips. Apparently, the angel enjoyed the feverish kisses and bites that Dean peppered down his neck.

Not even two seconds later they were on the floor and their clothes discarded to the side on the dirty ground between old plant pots and crumbs of dirt. There was no overthinking this situation, there was no discussion who did what and why and how. Nothing like that. There was no second-guessing, no doubts, no nervousness or fear. Sitting in Castiel's lap felt natural, their skin touching was everything that really mattered in this moment, their bodies being close was everything that was important in this world now as Castiel started kissing his way down the path of sensitive skin of his throat, grazing the curve of his collarbone with his teeth as if he knew exactly what to do, as if he had been sent down to earth exactly for that purpose.

The low growl that left Dean’s throat at this, only made Castiel chuckle against his skin and Dean could already tell that he loved this feeling, loved hearing and feeling the vibrations of Castiel's throat when he would produce that sound, as dark and gravelly as his voice. He allowed his back to arch ever so gently underneath those teasing kisses and bites as Castiel's mouth ventured down-down-down his throat before Castiel pushed him down from his lap and onto the ground. Dean didn't protest, as though his tongue had gotten stuck somewhere in his throat and really, he didn't care and this lack of care was what would usually scare the crap out of him. He was the one who was leading the way, usually. He was the one who gave other people what they wanted. To be on the receiving end of something like that felt odd to him and yet, maybe because it was Castiel who did these things to him, it didn't feel wrong. Not even in the slightest, as Castiel's tongue and lips and teeth kept devouring every valley and every rising of the once toned muscles of his abdomen and chest. His lips grazed over all the little scars that Dean had collected over the years as if he needed to memorize them exactly.

Castiel was thin for a man his age and height but still, his body was gorgeous, that much Dean could tell for certain.

Lower and lower Castiel’s mouth went as if they had all the time in the world as if he wanted to spend ages on worshipping the sculpture that was Dean’s body, while Dean was almost dying of impatience now. And while Castiel was exploring, Dean realized that the other man was stalling and decided that he would use Castiel’s inattention, as he wrapped his long legs tightly, almost crushingly tight around Castiel’s hips, straddling them, before he threw Castiel to the ground and rolled over him in the very same second. He couldn't help but smirk as he knocked the air out of Castiel’s lungs with this little stunt, before he bit down sharp on Castiel’s neck to draw out a small moan from the angel, who had probably never experienced anything like this before. Apparently, being on the wrestling team when he was sixteen years old, had been good for something at last.

To Dean, suddenly, it didn't matter if Castiel was Jimmy Novak after all. He didn't care. This was Castiel. Not Jimmy, nor anyone else and as it was now his turn to venture down on Castiel’s body, he realized that he would have never expected that he, Dean Winchester who had never done something like this before to another man and who had always been too determined in proving his sexuality to everyone around him, would spend his time descending down another man’s body with wet lips and sloppy kisses, while eager hands were tracing the arch of Castiel’s pec and ribs on his way down to the solid ridge of his abdominal muscles. Wouldn't he be so sickly thin, he would be broader than Dean, perhaps, who had always been tall and lean. For just one moment, Dean thought that the angel probably didn’t even know how stunningly beautiful he was to Dean or how wonderful the deep moan sounded to Dean’s ears as he sunk on the floor between Castiel’s long legs.

The silken flesh that was Castiel’s left inner thigh made it impossible for Dean to resist pressing sloppy open-mouthed kisses to the exposed skin. One thing was for certain in this endeavor: He had never been so close to another man’s cock before, though now was hardly the time for jokes, he supposed, as Castiel was writhing in silent anticipation underneath Dean. His right hand already forcefully gripped Castiel’s right thigh to lift the beautifully shaped leg above his own naked shoulder and when he moved closer to the body that was so openly welcoming him, he could feel how Castiel’s heel dug into his shoulder blade to draw him closer-closer-closer to lure him into pleasure. Instead, Dean bit down on the tender flesh of his inner thigh once more. Was Castiel even aware of what he was doing at this point? Well, then again, was _he_?

»Dean« He tried to protest, but the deep moan escaping his lips stopped him instantly, as Dean’s mouth finally traveled up to where they both really wanted it to be and engulfed Castiel’s aching arousal, silken heat, and licentious pleasure. He could feel Castiel fight to hold still, to control his revolting body, but he could also feel how his efforts became an increasingly difficult struggle against his own inner demons as Dean slyly applied his tongue along the ridge of his cock, following it with the slightest, the gentlest, the most careful scraping of teeth over silk.

It became quite obvious that Castiel could not resist bucking into his mouth pretty soon, his left hand reaching down to tangle his dirty fingers in Dean’s short blonde hair as best as he could to pull at it roughly, causing Dean to growl deep in his throat, but neither loosened Castiel his grip, nor did he let him go, but when Dean glanced up a little he devoured the sight of Castiel biting his bottom lip only to contain his moans as he finally gave up and decided to let the sensations consume him fully. The only thing that mattered was the feeling of the pressure building rapidly inside Castiel’s body, winding tighter and tighter and tighter, his fingers clutching Dean’s hair harder in a silent warning of what was soon to come, before Castiel pulled hard enough to rip his head up again, away from the heat in his groin. His blue eyes were already deeply clouded by lust, a look, Dean truly wanted to memorize forever. It was a moment of confusion that made Dean stop his ministrations and before he could even protest, he was on his back again and the grip that Castiel had on his jaw was almost bruising, his cock digging into his stomach.

»We don't have time to play.« Castiel breathed and the hot air that was leaving his mouth ghosted over Dean’s face.

»Then make it count.« Dean teased at this display of wanton desire. There was no turning back now anymore as Castiel closed his right hand round their cocks to give them some few reassuring tugs and Dean could hardly keep his eyes from rolling back into his head at the sudden pleasure that was rushing through his entire being.

Castiel seemed to know exactly what he had to do and Dean was none to question another man. His hand was already slick with precum as he moved his hand gently over Dean’s right thigh. He moaned a little louder as the gentle brush of fingertips became a scraping of nails so harsh that it would surely leave marks. All of this seemed to be a constant battle. A battle for dominance. A battle between rough sex and gentle love-making, never too certain of what it wanted to be. A part of him wanted it rough because a rough little fuck would be so much easier to explain to himself and the part of his brain that still refused to accept the truth, than making love to another man.

Castiel grabbed his leg fiercer and moved it up with easy, laying it atop his own shoulder before he leaned down to bite hard into Dean’s shoulder hard. Dean was gasping by now, his breaths shallow and fast, sweat lazily dripping down his forehead. There was nothing for them here to use as lube, no matter how much he would turn to look around. »Suck« Castiel ordered Dean as he pushed his fingers lightly against Dean's lips as if it was the most normal thing to ask of another man and right in this moment, Dean couldn't care less for the remaining dirt or anything at all - not even for the fact that he was willing to hand over the control to Castiel, that he was ready to be taken by another man. He should have a problem with this, a silent voice in his head provided, and yet, as he welcomed Castiel's fingers into his mouth, his tongue was eager to move around these fingers, taking care to wet them as thoroughly as possible.

When Castiel took his fingers from him again, Dean was huffing with impatience and fighting against the sudden nervousness that was creeping up inside his stomach. His huff was soon replaced by a heavy moan as Castiel breached him with one slick finger, then two as if it was nothing, melting away the lingering tensions just with his fingers. It hurt, just a little, and when Castiel was ready to shove the third finger in, Dean’s nails were already digging into the ground for support. Castiel stopped at this and as Dean dared to look at him, he could all but see Castiel's hesitation, the silent fear of having hurt the hunter perhaps. So he bucked against the fingers inside of him to make sure that Castiel would not pull away. Hell, here he was. He, the great Dean Winchester, being a twitching and bucking mess on a dirt covered ground before Castiel had even taken him.

Castiel was working him open with ease, his body welcoming the angel so quickly and without hesitation as if that had been the plan all along. Castiel, however, was an explorer and slowed down the steady thrust of his fingers, easing them completely inside instead as if he was enjoying the tight heat around them. The moment, however, Castiel’s fingertips brushed over the swell of Dean’s prostate, Dean’s moans turned immediately into short gasps, shocked about the waves of pleasure his body was able to feel all of the sudden that was so very different from what he had experienced before. Fuck, if Castiel would continue like this, he would lose it before Castiel had even fucked him.

They didn't even have a condom, of course. It was almost hilarious to Dean because he couldn't help but think of Gabriel and how he had already offered his help in that regard. He should have asked him for condoms.

As Castiel drew his fingers back again, Dean almost wanted to protest, but he was not even able to do that anymore. There were so many reasons why he should protest this situation, of course, and yet, as Castiel’s crotch pressed against his body and when he drew the swollen head of his erection along the curve of his ass until  it caught on the puckered skin, he just lay there in anticipation, his father’s angry voice ringing clearly in his ears. He already knew it would be a tight fit, but now it was too late to stop anyway.

»You ready?« Castiel quietly asked, his voice a dark and husky promise of the upcoming pain and pleasure he was adamant to deliver, but he only got a breathy whine in response and a wild and impatient buck as Dean grinded forward and against his slicked cock, spreading his long legs wider, now that Castiel was between them anyway. Well, at least one of them still seemed to possess enough brains to ask the real questions, right?

»Just fucking do it and fuck me already!« Here he was, Dean Winchester, begging to be fucked by another man. Oh, how the mighty have fallen.

However, no matter his oh so very impatient and desperate words, Dean tensed a little as Castiel's cock slid across his hole. Castiel reached down to hold himself in place, before pushing against the unyielding tightness of Dean's body and Dean only gritted his teeth at the sudden pain when Castiel entered him, finally claiming him as his. A gruff moan was ripping through Castiel's body when he finally was deeply sheathed inside the hunter’s body and stopped for a moment to give him time to adjust to this new sensation that Dean could not even try to begin putting into coherent words. It was obvious that this was new for Castiel too and although it hurt a little, Dean was eager to clasp his long legs around Castiel’s waist to get him closer, his hands clawing at Castiel’s neck as he was aimlessly searching for the angel’s mouth -  if only to suppress and quiet his pleasured moans.

Dean's entire body was flushed because of the embarrassment he felt for enjoying this new sensation so much more than he would have thought he would, and the kiss he earned from the angel was even deeper than before as Cas placed both his arms to each side of Dean’s head on the ground, boxing in his head before he slowly started to move inside of him.

Dean’s body was taut as a bowstring, while Castiel rocked his hips forwards and fucked into the awaiting body, their bodies moving in unison as he did, pressed so tightly together that it was hard to breathe. He held his eyes screwed shut, his arms tightly wrapped around Castiel’s neck to hold him close. The only cover they had now was one of the old tables that were blocking the view for anyone who might stumble in on them. Hell, as if he would truly care right now. Only as a yelp of shock was tearing from his throat he had to break away from the kiss, his eyes almost rolling into the back of his head by the sudden assault of pure and utter pleasure that Castiel managed to send through him.

At least he wasn't the only one who had a hard time suppressing his moans, Dean realized as he caught a glimpse of Castiel’s face again before he pulled the angel down once more, pressing his forehead against the angel’s as he was desperately trying to get enough air into his lungs while those deeply immoral sounds were ripping right through him. He could feel his pulse going berserk as he arched his spine to meet Castiel halfway. Dean's deep and throaty moans were now even louder than the wet slaps Castiel produced slamming down into the hunter’s body, as he increased his pace, squeezing his blue eyes shut now himself.

Dean’s own cock was squeezed so tightly in between their bodies that it was all but massaged with every move Castiel made and yet Dean managed to get a hand between them, grabbing his own member and started tugging on it impatiently, aimlessly thrusting into his own eager hand. Neither of them wanted to slow down, that much was certain and yet, Castiel seemed to still possess at least a little more of coherency than Dean in this moment as he quickly grabbed Dean by his waist and - with a strength that Dean had not thought possible - swiftly leaned back in his position until he was sitting cross-legged on the floor, pulling Dean right with him and on top of him.

Castiel rocked his own hips to meet him, his hands settling on Dean’s waist as he leaned his head forward to rest his forehead against Dean’s collarbone now instead. This change of position had hurt a little, more than he would have thought and yet, Dean was still too entranced by all of this as he closed his legs as tightly as he could around the other man’s waist, taking his cock even deeper as it seemed now. Maybe it only slipped easier now that his body had already grown accustomed to it, he really didn't care. Only as he grew comfortable enough he started riding him, panting as he enjoyed the sweet pain and the little burn of Castiel’s cock plunging into him, ripping him open and filling him to his desire.

It didn't take long until their hips rolled together, synchronized in mutual pleasure, as Castiel took Dean’s almost painfully aching cock in his own hand now, picking back up where Dean had left it. Dean’s short nails dug into the flesh of Castiel’s back by now, into his muscles while he steadied himself to fasten his pace, moaning as if the last time he had had sex laid back ages. And then, finally, Dean's whole body was spasming in the sudden jolt of relief, his toes curling behind Castiel's back and his spine again arching upwards and closer towards the angel.

It was this sight and the clenching of Dean's body around him that made Castiel's climax all the more intense when it hit them both like a train at full speed. The sensation was insane, for all the time he needed to abstain from this. He didn’t remember if it had ever been this intense with any woman he had ever slept with, but he suddenly sincerely doubted it. His body had never felt so caught in a riptide, never felt like he could barely move as he spent himself, riding his orgasm out while Castiel was panting against his shoulder now.

Dean was almost certain that they would get a proper ass-whooping as soon as they would step out of this greenhouse, as they put their clothes back on just a few minutes later. His knees still felt wobbly and his skin was still flushed just like Castiel’s. He had learned quite a lot about the angel through this exercise. For example, Castiel’s toes seemed to turn numb when he had an orgasm - and that he, Dean Winchester, was quite the needy little bitch. This thought made him pause as he was about to put his shirt back on. The pause seemed to be long enough for Castiel to notice it and turn a concerned glance at him. »Is everything alright?« Did I hurt you? That was the real question the angel didn't dare to ask loudly.

»Yes…« Dean breathed and his voice was still hoarse, so he cleared his throat and finally pulled the shirt over his head. »I just realized now that I am everything my father was afraid I would become.« He then quietly smirked and took another second to gather himself before he brushed his fingers down his uniform and nodded towards the greenhouse door so that they would leave, although he would much rather spend the rest of his life in this greenhouse with this angel. He would rather do that than to face the real world out there. This, right here, could be their very own Garden of Eden - one without snakes and the only temptation being one another. »My father always made it painfully clear that he couldn't have a fag as a son. And now here we are. If he could see me now, he would kill me.«

»But he isn't.« Castiel gently coaxed as he planted a kiss on his right temple before he opened the greenhouse door quietly.

»No - because I beat him to it.« Dean shrugged as they left the greenhouse and stepped back into the sunshine. Only the new greenhouse now lay between them and their punishment.

»I'm afraid I don't fully understand this phrase.« Castiel replied just as quietly as before but with the same seriousness that Dean had grown to love so much during the past weeks. There he was again, his little alien creature. Dean was stalling and he knew that, but as they slipped into the new greenhouse and walked towards the exit and thus their day of reckoning, he paused again to look at Castiel. He owed him the truth. He owed himself the truth. Because if he really was crazy, there was no getting better until he wouldn't accept the truth.

»I killed my father.«

 

**-End of Chapter 16-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3


	17. Chapter 17

It was a miracle that they hadn't been caught. That much Dean could say without second-guessing himself. It truly was a miracle. Almost as if God had been looking out for them personally during their little adventure in the greenhouse. As he was lying on his back in his bed inside his room and listened to the heavy rain beating against his window outside, he couldn't stop his mind from wandering back to this afternoon again and again and again. It was way past midnight by this point and the ward had grown completely silent. It seemed that only his mind couldn't get the much-needed rest and finally shut up.

It wasn't that he was regretting the experience. It wasn't that he was regretting having slept with Castiel. It wasn't that he was regretting giving himself to another man like this. Or at least that's what Dean was trying to tell himself as he found himself staring at the ceiling of his room. And it was the truth! Though the thing was … He _should_ be regretting what he did with Castiel, shouldn't he? He _should_ be feeling bad about it. He _should_ be feeling dirty. He didn't, though. His ass hurt like a bitch, but that had to be expected after being literally fucked by another man but that was it. He was not feeling dirty. He was not feeling any less manly. He was not feeling disappointed in himself. He was not feeling ashamed because he had been fucked by Castiel. None of that.

Sleeping with Castiel had felt good - liberating, almost. As if a part of him could finally breathe. As if a part of him finally got the chance to be free. As if he didn't need to hide a certain part of his personality anymore. By God, Dean knew that he had always looked at guys too. It wasn't like he had been oblivious to the fact that he might be bisexual. It was just that he had never dared to admit that to himself because he had always known that he could have never acted upon his desire. Not with his father around.

 _Well, well, look at that_. The voice was back again and out of the corner of his left eye, Dean could see the figure hovering in the corner of his room. _Daddy is gone and you’ll go and spread your legs like a wanton little whore for some random crazy guy, is that it? Is that what you are supposed to do? Just imagine what Dad would think of you now. Just imagine how he would look at you now. Come on, Deanie. Don't you feel just a little bit dirty? You should, shouldn't you? But the fact that you don't … Well, it tells us a whole lot about you, doesn't it?_

Dean turned on his side, putting his back to the figure in the corner of his room as he was putting his arms over his ears in an attempt of blocking out that little voice that was so very relentless in it's taunting. _Just admit it, Deanie. You always wanted that, didn't you? You always wanted to be owned by a man, to be fucked like a bitch. Well, you have the looks of a fuckboy so why not act that way too, right? Hell, just imagine if you would have been caught sooner and put in jail, though. Imagine the fun you would have had in there._

»Shut the fuck up!« Dean groaned out but refused the urge to sit up on his bed and face the demon in the corner of his room. He couldn't look at him. He couldn't stand looking at this thing’s fucking face. Was he afraid? Yes. Yes, he was fucking afraid and he was not ashamed of admitting to it.

_That's because you are accepting that you are crazy, Deanie. You are accepting that I'm here with you and that you will never get rid of me ever again. You have already lost your mind, Deanie. You lost your mind the moment you rammed that knife down your father's throat, remember that moment, Deanie?_

»Shut your goddamn mouth you fucking son of a bitch!« Suddenly the door to his room was pushed open and Dean almost jumped out of his skin out of surprise. He wasn't on his bed any longer and there were hands on him pressing him down on his bed before he even had the chance to realize what was happening to him or to understand why his body was aflame with pain. The demon had taken control and Dean was doing everything he could possibly do to fight back, kicking and screaming as he could see the demon’s horrible grimace hovering just inches over his face, staring down at him out of completely black eyes. And then there was this horrible sting in his left arm before, just seconds later, he felt his whole body turning numb, limb by limb shutting off and his mind going black.

He could feel maggots crawling over his naked skin. He could feel bugs bite down on him, clawing at his skin, ripping him to shreds, crawling underneath his torn skin, wiggling through his body - a tingling, shivering sensation like electric shocks running through his very core. He could feel his fists clench and unclench at rapid speed, felt how every muscle in his body was convulsing and contracting. His toes were curling, his heels digging into the mattress of his bed, his eyes were rolling into the back of his head and his back was arching painfully. And then, suddenly, as quickly as it started, it was over and he dropped back down on his mattress.

Dean tried to catch a breath but he had something between his teeth. He couldn't breathe. His lungs burned as if he was trying to swallow gallons of gasoline. And as he finally was able to catch a breath, the sensation only grew worse, however, he started to grow aware of the whimper that he could hear coming from somewhere inside the room. It took him a moment to realize that the whimper came from him.

It was a pathetic little sound and he could almost not believe that this was his own voice and yet, he could recognize it from all the times his father had beaten the living crap out of him until he had almost been unable to remember his own name. As he finally regained his sight, the light was blinding and forced him to screw his eyes shut again. Why was it so bright? It never was this bright inside his room! As he clenched his jaw he felt something between his teeth yet again. It was this moment when he realized three fundamental truths at the exact same time. Number one: The thing between his teeth was meant for him to bite down on so that he wouldn't bite his tongue. Number two: He couldn't move because he was tied to a bed. Number three: He was _not_ in his room.

Immediately, his first instinct was to fight against his bindings - to no avail. Was he back in the padded cell? This was his first thought but as he looked around he quickly realized that he was somewhere else entirely. Paul stood right next to the bed he was lying on, his hand resting on a machine standing beside Dean’s bed. Wires were connecting him to the machine but he couldn't tell how no matter how much he tried to look around. Something was pressing against his temples though. Finally, Paul was turning to him, his face a horribly distorted grimace, and took whatever it was that was stuck between his teeth, allowing him to take in a deep breath of air. »Where are we?« He coughed out immediately.

»Electroshock therapy.« He replied and pointed to the apparatus standing next to Dean.

»Why?« He wasn't even able to elaborate on this question. Why should suffice, he thought.

»Jake alarmed me when he found you talking to yourself and demolishing your room. We needed three guys to subdue you, Dean. You were hurting yourself again.« He didn't remember any of that.

 _Because it's not true, Deanie._ The voice was back again and as Dean's eyes fell upon the figure behind Paul he knew that this night would be the worst of his life. _He’s lying to you. Can't you see that he's a demon, Deanie?_

»Shut up.« He groaned out and squeezed his eyes shut again before he felt Paul forcing the rubber thing back into his mouth.

»We’re not done yet, Dean. Try to relax. I promise everything will be better soon.« It almost sounded like a threat the way Paul said these things and yet … there really was nothing that he could do about it.

 _Pathetic_ , the demon grinned before his body started to convulse again.

※※※※※※※

Bobby Singer was by no means a young man. In his long life, he had seen quite a lot of things. Some as terrifying as if they came straight out of a nightmare, some almost magical. So it was by no means easy to surprise him in any way. There was nothing that he had not seen and yet, as he found himself in the presence of Dean Winchester again in the hospital's visitation room, he didn't know what to say or think or do.

He knew Dean ever since he had been a small child. He had seen him sick already. He had calmed him after terrible nightmares. He had cared for him when he had been sick or nursed him back to health when he was suffering from a broken bone. He had raised this boy whenever John had left them with him - again. He had seen Dean Winchester in pretty much every state there was over the years and yet _this_ Dean Winchester was a stranger to him. He could hardly recognize his boy as he was led to the chair across of the one that Bobby was currently occupying and sat down slowly.

Dean was pale, the skin of his face almost ashen. He looked thin although Bobby knew that Dean surely had not lost as much weight as he looked like. There were still well toned muscles underneath his hospital outfit and yet, Dean Winchester was starting to disappear. It had been a while since he had last seen Dean, of course, and yet not nearly long enough that Dean should have changed all too much. But here they were; Dean Winchester was literally starting to melt into the background. He had dark circles under his eyes and a nervous twitch of his left eyebrow. His eyes looked everywhere but at Bobby as they would usually do. Dean had always had a very intense gaze when he would look someone directly in the eyes and that he was known to do ever since he had been little. For some people his staring might have been a little unnerving even and yet, Bobby had always seen the wit and sharp mind in his beautiful green eyes. Now, however, it looked almost as if Dean was outright refusing to meet his eyes. They looked dull and pale as Bobby caught a glimpse of his eyes. They didn't even look like his beautiful boy’s eyes anymore - almost as if it was not Dean at all.

»Dean-« Bobby began but paused himself quite quickly before he made another attempt of talking to him. »It's good to see you again, boy.« Although it wasn’t and Dean could probably tell by the way his voice had dropped an octave. Even if he did notice, though, he didn't show it. He expected an answer, something like ‘Good to see you too, Bobby’, but he didn't get any answer. Instead, Dean just stared blankly out of the window. If he wouldn't know it any better, Bobby would have almost been sure that Dean had been pumped full of drugs. The way his gaze slipped out the window to watch a swallow that was lazily flying circles over the yard, the way his left eyebrow was twitching and his complete disregard for anything or anyone - it just wasn't like Dean. Not like his hyper-attentive Dean. »Boy … Is everything alright? How are you feeling?« He knew that there wouldn't be an answer. »Are they treating you well?«

»I killed Dad.« The words were barely audible. They were so silent that Bobby wasn't too sure if he had really heard it in the first place. Surely he hadn't heard it. Surely he had just imagined things. Why would Dean say something like this?

»Dean?«

»I killed Dad.« He repeated barely louder than before but now Bobby was at least sure that he had indeed heard it. »I did. I killed him.«

»Dean … Boy, what are you talking about?« This wasn't his boy. Something was odd about him. No, not odd. Strange. Different. He shouldn't be too surprised, he thought. Dean was here for over one month already. A place like this did something to a man, he assumed. The drugs, the isolation, the daily routines, the endless hours of nothingness. Still, despite all of that, Bobby would have never thought that all of this would have that much of an impact on the boy that he had practically raised. »You didn't kill John. It was the demon, Azazel.«

He remembered the night as if it had been yesterday. John and he had been friends, long-term friends, and though not always of the same opinion, the news of his death had come as a shock to him. He remembered how he had been reached by Dean’s call in the middle of the night, shaken awake from a bad dream to awake into an even worse one. He remembered how this boy had broken down completely while still fighting for composure with no success whatsoever. He could still hear how his voice had cracked, how sobs had made it almost impossible for him to speak at all.

»No … No, no, no, Bobby!« Finally his voice grew in volume. »No, Bobby! You don't understand this!« Dean leaned down on the table and thus closer to Bobby, his green eyes now drilling into Bobby’s. He was so close that Bobby could almost count every last freckle that were splashed over his cheeks and the bridge of his nose. »You don't understand.« He looked frantic - or in lack of a better term, he looked crazy. As much as Bobby would want to find a different word, that was how his little boy looked.

»Dean you didn't kill your father.«

»Yes, I did, Bobby!« His voice was almost a shout that was ripping from his throat and immediately Dean threw a glance over his shoulder and to the door where the nurse still stood that had brought him here, already slowly stepping a bit closer, alarmed by Dean’s agitated state. »I did! There was no demon, Bobby. There are no such things as monsters … It was _me_. I killed Dad. I did that. I was so angry at him. I felt so betrayed by him. I killed him, Bobby.« His voice had grown quiet again, barely above a whisper, shaking with each word as if he was about to crack completely. Bobby could see how bad Dean felt, but really, that wasn't that much of a challenge in this situation. He was having a breakdown and Bobby couldn't stand to watch it. This place was driving Dean insane and Bobby was afraid what Dean might do if he would leave him here for too long.

»Dean, don't worry, Son. I’ll get you out of here soon.« He promised quietly as the nurse was already approaching them now with bigger steps. »I’ll get you out and everything will be okay. And if Sam wont help me, I’ll do it myself. I'm not going to leave you here.«

»No … No, no, no, Bobby.« He repeated again almost frantically and only then did Bobby notice how Dean was scratching his right arm with his left hand. Had he done this the entire time that they were sitting here? He hadn't noticed, but his skin was red and raw and irritated. »I need to stay here … I need help … I need to get better…«

It wasn't the first time that Bobby felt truly heartbroken in his long life but seeing his boy like this, did not just break his heart but rip it cleanly out of his chest. He could only watch how Dean was taken away by the nurse again, how he was still talking as he was led out of the room now and how the doors closed behind Dean, while all he wanted to do was jump up and beat the crap out of whoever turned Dean into a potato.

※※※※※※※

He knew that it was against the rules as he closed his arm around Dean. He knew that he had to be careful so that they wouldn't get separated because what would Dean do if he wouldn't be there with him anymore? He knew that he shouldn't feel so attached to this human and then again, he was a human himself, right? That was what humans did. They grow attached to one another. Despite the fact that he started to accept that he was just some random human, Castiel had a hard time giving up the name Castiel. He couldn't bear seeing this name being stripped away from him just like he couldn't bear seeing Dean like this. Maybe this was his very human heart breaking for this very human being, that he felt drawn to so much. Maybe it was something differently entirely.

He couldn't deny that he felt a close connection to Dean. He couldn't deny that he felt that their connection had only become stronger after they had had sex just two days ago. Yet, a part of Dean seemed to be broken ever since the night that had followed that beautiful afternoon in the greenhouse and now all Castiel was able to do was stay close to Dean, pull him in whenever he was able to and try to soothe his mind as Dean was slowly losing it.

»I'm worried about Dean.« Cas found himself mumbling as he turned away from the window in Dr. Whitman’s office. Being in here after his last breakdown again felt a little weird to him and he was still sorry for how he had attacked the doctor.

»Why?« The question was delivered to him rather quietly but not nearly quiet enough so that he wouldn't be able to hear it. »Why is it that you are worried for Dean?«

»He seems to be slipping.« That was a term that he had learned during his time in this place and he was still not quite sure what it meant. He, as an angel, would probably say that Dean was losing his mind - simple as that. Well, he was no angel though, was he? »He’s having a hard time right now.«

He didn't know what he could say without getting Dean and himself in trouble. Every conversation with Dr. Whitman or any of the nurses was like dancing a tango with a chainsaw ever since Dean and he became even closer than just friends. »You seem to be very attached to Dean, Jimmy.« A part of him was sad and affronted that Dr. Whitman wouldn't call him Castiel anymore, ever since his breakdown a while ago. Apparently, everyone was determined to get him to understand that he was James Novak. »Tell me, Jimmy, what do you feel for Dean? Can you try to put it into words for me?«

With a heavy sigh, Castiel bridged the distance between them only to sit down on the chair on the other side of the desk. »I have a hard time understanding human emotions, Dr. Whitman. Angels feel on a different level, after all. Still, I feel like I start to understand it all a little better - much because of Dean, I might add.«

»Do you think that Dean is a good influence on you and your mental health?«

»I do, actually.« He paused looking back out of the window again. »I think … I think we both started to understand that the things we believed to be true are only fabrications of our minds.« It was not easy admitting these things to the doctor. It seemed oddly final, as if this was all it would take for him to lose the rest of his identity as Castiel completely and when he would give this tiny piece of himself up, there was nothing anymore, only Jimmy who would remain. And then he would need to deal with what he had done. »I feel that we are helping each other quite a bit in getting better, Dr. Whitman.«

Dr. Whitman nodded quietly, his brows furrowed ever so slightly as he was making notes on his notepad like usual. »After what I've seen, I would be inclined to agree to this assumption. It is true that you and Dean got into a lot of trouble together and that your breakdowns and level of violence have increased after Dean was committed to this hospital, however, I also see the progress you have made ever since. It seems that you are finally coming to terms with the reality of your disease. Still, Jimmy, I am concerned that your attachment to Dean Winchester might cause other problems in the near future. I'm afraid that you are getting too attached to each other, slowing down your healing process and maybe even keeping you locked inside your diseases. Of course, hospital policy won’t allow me to keep you on the same ward if we catch you and Dean breaking the rules again or engaging in any kind of sexual activities with one another.«

»I understand that, Dr. Whitman.« He quietly murmured. Of course, he knew that and to Castiel it was still a miracle that they hadn't been caught having sex in the greenhouse in the first place as if some higher being had been watching out for them. A part of him wanted to talk about this new experience, but of course he couldn't do it, at least not to Dr. Whitman. »Of course, we will refrain from such activities in the future, while in here, Doctor. However I'm afraid that the hospital rules are not changing anything about how I feel about Dean.«

»Of course, I would be glad to see that you two are able to have a healthy and happy relationship with each other as soon as you are fully healed, Jimmy. It might not be the place or the circumstances you thought to find love again after the death of your wife, however, love comes in the strangest ways, Jimmy.«

»I don't know if this is love, Doc. I never felt something like this before.«

»You see, Jimmy, it is completely natural for you to feel this way. I take it from your file that you were raised in a strict Catholic home. Of course, you never questioned your sexuality and without devaluing the love you felt for your wife Amelia, this experience with Dean Winchester is something entirely different and something that might have been the plan from the start for you.«

»You mean I was always gay?«

»Or bisexual, of course we can't really say that for certain now. But I can tell you that it's not uncommon for people who grew up like you did, to marry because of the expectations their family has for them.«

»I can't even tell you how I felt for Amelia.« He understood that he was Jimmy Novak and yet those memories, those feelings still seemed locked. He was unable to reach them. »It's like they are not my emotions.«

»We’ll get to the point, Jimmy, don't worry.« He gently coaxed with a soft smile. »And as long as your relationship with Dean stays nurturing, I have no further objections. And maybe you will soon be able to tell more clearly how you feel for Dean.« He wasn't sure if the doctor could understand the severity of the situation or how difficult the question of his feelings for Dean really was. It wasn't like this was all so very cut and dry - at least not in his eyes.

»I don't know much about how it feels to fall in love, Doctor. Jimmy might, but apparently, I'm not yet right there.« What if he would wake up one day and be Jimmy again? How would Jimmy feel about the things he had done? No, no, no, no … that was the point! _He_ was Jimmy! »No, I mean, I can't remember how falling in love with Amelia, with my wife, felt. But I know that I like being close to Dean. He’s the first person I feel I can truly trust, even with my darkest thoughts - despite you, Doctor, of course. I find him fascinating in every sense of the word. I feel like he can understand what I’m dealing with - as if I wouldn't need many words to make him understand. I've never felt something like this before.« He didn't know how Dean would feel when he would hear him talk like this, but maybe that was not too important anyway. This was about what _he_ felt and not Dean. »I feel a very strong connection to Dean Winchester, Dr. Whitman, and a very strong urge to protect him.« Which was odd in and of itself because Dean Winchester surely was no one who needed a great deal of protection - not to mention that Dean seemed to be a whole lot stronger than Castiel actually was at the moment. Things would look very differently, though, would he have his grace and his wings back.

 _There are no wings to get back_ , the voice inside his head gently reminded him and of course, he knew that the voice was right, as he later walked out of the office and down the hall. Right, he thought, there were no wings to get back.

»You look troubled, my friend.« At this point, it was not a big surprise to hear the janitor’s voice coming from inside some closet or room and yet Castiel was startled by the voice coming from the broom closet before Mr. Smith poked out his head again. Of course, Castiel didn't know how Mr. Smith had been able to see that he looked troubled from inside the closet before it occurred to him that it might just be a figure of speech.

He stopped at the closet as Smith stepped out of it, pulling a ladder with him. »Well? What's on your mind, Cassie?« He decided to just follow the janitor down the hall where the man set up the ladder and climbed a few steps up to reach one of the ceiling lamps. Apparently, one of the bulbs had died. »Trouble in paradise? Is Deanie-boy okay?«

»I don't know.« The answer escaped his mouth without him being quite able to think about it.

»Yeah … Well … I heard about what happened.« Smith sighed and leaned on the ladder for a second, looking down on Castiel. His expression was sincere. »Electroshock therapy, huh? Man, that’s bad.«

What was he supposed to say? »Yes … Yes, it's bad.« He decided to mumble. »I'm worried about Dean … He’s not himself anymore.«

»Oh don't worry, Cassie, he will be back to his old self in no time, just you wait. As long as he knows that there is someone at his side who helps him cope with this situation, there is no reason why he shouldn't get better again, right?« Well, it sounded so easy out of Smith’s mouth but maybe that was because it was that easy. He could only hope, he assumed. »And you’ll see, I think you will both get out of this place in no time.«

»I'm just concerned for him … What if next time the nurses notice too late that he’s hurting himself?« Ever since that night, Cas had an even harder time finding sleep, not knowing if Dean would still be just a few doors down the hall when he would wake up. His fear of losing Dean was already consuming him whole. Maybe Dr. Whitman was right and this was indeed love between them. But if love meant being torn apart by fear like this, he didn't quite know if he wanted this.

»Have you lost your faith already, Feathers?« Smith smiled as he pulled out a chocolate bar from one of the many pockets of his overall to hand it to Castiel. »Don't worry, God is watching over your boyfriend.«

»I don't know what to believe anymore.« And yet, as he finally walked down the hall and found Dean sitting in his room on his bed, staring blankly at the wall in front of him, Castiel wasn't too sure if Smith was right, after all. From the moment he had seen Dean Winchester for the first time in this hellhole, something about him had been familiar to Castiel and his name had been etched into his brain ever since. Or … had he known his name before? Looking at Dean now, he felt like there was a part of his memory missing - an even bigger part than what he had assumed to be missing until now. There was something very important, something about Dean, that he was supposed to remember but couldn't.

Only as Dean took notice of him and looked at him out of those pure green eyes, Castiel felt as if he was right where he was supposed to be and the fact that he didn't know what this was all about, frustrated him to no end.

※※※※※※※

It hadn't been in his interest to meet Sam once again after the last time he had met this stubborn boy after all those years being apart. Mainly because he already knew how this conversation would end. Yet, what other choice did he have? Breaking Dean out of this place was a two men job whether he liked it or not. He had had two days of thinking about what he wanted to do since he had last seen Dean.

As he sat inside the diner at the busy street, sipping on his coffee, he was almost sure that Sam had decided to ditch him. He was already ten minutes late and as far as Bobby knew this boy, Sam was never late - except when he didn't want to go somewhere.

Everytime the door of the diner opened, Bobby found himself looking up hopefully only to lower his eyes on his newspapers again. This time, as the door opened, however, he didn't look up only to be surprised by Sam Winchester for once. »Hey Bobby, sorry I’m late, traffic was awful.«

Dean would have said something along the lines of ‘Sorry I’m late, I didn't want to come’, but Sam was still eager to be polite. Well, the boy had never been a chip of the old block. His only response was a small grunt directed at Sam as the young man sat down across from him. Immediately, they were attacked by the overly friendly waitress Dorothy who only walked away after Sam had ordered a coffee, leaving them to a moment of truly uncomfortable silence. »It's good to see you, Sam.« Bobby finally sighed, deciding that the peaceful route was probably the best to take in this situation. He wanted to win Sam over, after all.

»So, why did you ask me to come?« Sam inquired but they were interrupted by Dorothy once more as she brought Sam his coffee and walked off again.

»I need your help, Boy.«

»Bobby, I-«  

»I visited your brother. Two days ago.«

»Oh.« Bobby didn't quite know what to make of this sound, but Sam only took a sip of his coffee and leaned back again. »Last time I’ve seen him, we actually got along.« He then remarked. »I feel like he’s finally getting a little better, Bobby, don’t you think? We finally talked for real and Dean seemed to have started to see that he needs the help that he gets there.«

»I'm afraid I can't agree with you on that.« Bobby frowned. »When I visited him, your brother was not even himself any longer, Sam. He needs help, we need to get him out of there. This place is messing with him - and badly so. Whatever they did to him in the meantime, Dean is starting to lose his god-damn mind in there, Sam.«

»He already lost his mind that's why he is at this place!« It was obvious how hard a time the boy had to keep his voice down. Surely, he didn't want any attention drawn towards their table.

»You don't understand, Sam!« Bobby raised his voice only to lower it immediately afterward as they already attracted the first strange looks. »You brother was frantic when we talked. He looked sick. He’s wasting away in this hospital and you don't even care! The worst of all of this was that they somehow convinced him that he has killed his own father, Sam! He was convinced that he did that!«

»Well, maybe he did! We weren't there! I mean, hell, I only got the news two weeks after it happened! And all he told me was that a demon had killed my father and that he had salted and burned his body. Bobby, does that sounds like something a rational person would say to you? Does that sound like Dean was completely healthy in the first place? For fuck’s sake, Bobby! Who does something like this?« He brushed a hand through his long hair as if this would help him calm his nerves, something that he had already done as a child whenever his big brother had made him reach his wit's end. »You know what? I shouldn't be surprised! Dad … You … All you guys did was talk about monsters and demons. Of course, for Dean, all of this is completely normal. He doesn't know any better! You guys brainwashed him and now that's the result. Congratulations!«

»Don't you dare talk like this to me, Sam Winchester.«

»Why wouldn't I, though? It's the truth, Bobby. You and Dad poisoned his mind ever since he was a child and I am lucky that Dean managed to shelter me from all of this crazy talk, that my brother taught me to think for myself - a skill that he himself, ironically, does not possess as it seems.«

»You're breaking my heart, boy.« Bobby bit out quietly taking off his hat to brush a hand through his thinning hair. »I thought you would love your brother enough to still care if he’s okay or not. Put everything else aside. Put aside that you don't believe in the supernatural and how you have been raised, okay? Why won't you trust me and believe me when I tell you that your brother is not okay? Why won't you believe me when I tell you that Dean needs our help? Have I ever done something to you to forfeit your trust, boy? Have I not been a decent father figure in your life?«

»Oh, come on, Bobby. We both know that Dean was always your favorite. You've only come here to meet me because breaking Dean out is a two men job and you need my help. Simple as that.« He hardly recognized Sam. His jaw was tight, his lips a thin line and his green eyes drilling into him full with bitterness and anger over what he thought was the truth.

»Sam, boy … I never meant to-«

»No, it's okay.« Sam rose from his spot on the bench and put money down for the coffee he had hardly touched. »It's okay, Bobby, I get it. I never belonged to this family. I was always the odd one out. Of course, you would like Dean better than me because he never asked the uncomfortable questions, right? No big deal anyway, it's not like we are family, right? Anyway, I'm done with all of this crap. I'm going to live my life like I want it to be. You go and try to break out Dean but don't be surprised when you land yourself in a cell right next to his. I for once, am going to ask my girlfriend to marry me and have a normal life without you and my crazy brother in it.«

 

**-End of Chapter 17-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think, I love to read your comments <3
> 
> Maybe you'll like my other two Supernatural fanfics as well? Have a look:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/12340470/chapters/28065087  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/13190916/chapters/30172848


	18. Chapter 18

It was the third time that he found himself in this visitation room and just like the previous two times, Sam could’ve thought of something more entertaining to do. Still, Bobby's words had left him a little more troubled than he was comfortable admitting. He had to see for himself if his brother was well because despite what he had told Bobby, he loved his big brother dearly and couldn't stand the sole prospect of Dean being unwell or sick or even in danger. Dean was still this incredible person who had changed his diapers, fed and bathed him, and cared for him with all his heart in Sam’s eyes. He was still the rock in the stormy sea that Sam needed so desperately to lean on, especially today as his heart was racing one hundred miles per hour with each second.

He could feel the small box in the inside pocket of his jacket press against his chest. Tonight was the night, he had decided. Tonight he would finally ask Jess to marry him. Maybe it was a little fast, all of it. He had always thought that he would wait until after college, but why wait? Jess was his biggest supporter in all of this drama. She was the one he could lean on for support and comfort now that his brother was in here. A part of him wasn't surprised that he had found a girl that was so similar to his brother. Hell, they even shared the same birthday. It was almost a bit weird.

As the door was opened and Dean was being led inside by the nurse who was actually leading his brother at his arm this time, Sam, was immediately able to tell what Bobby had meant at their last meeting. His brother looked like shit. He looked like he had been through hell and back. That, at least sent a pang of pain through his chest that he couldn't quite place yet, although he felt that it should be obvious what it meant. Dean looked small in his hospital clothes. He looked thin and as if his clothes were suddenly a few sizes too big for him as if his brother was slowly disappearing until the clothes would only be a lifeless pile on the floor and Dean gone for good. He was pale and the freckles that were splashed all over his cheeks and nose stood out even more against his skin. It was almost as if he was seeing them for the very first time in his life as Dean slowly sat down on the chair across from him. Only as Dean was safely seated, the nurse, who greeted Sam with a curt little nod, retreated back to the entry to keep an eye on Dean from a distance.

»Wow … Dean, you look like shit.« There was no witty response no matter how long he would wait and that started to become pretty clear pretty fast because his brother just stared out of the window mindlessly as if he wasn't even here. »It reminds me of the time when you got really sick … You had to be thirteen, I guess. I remember how you caught some virus and spend over a week in bed with a very bad fever. Fuck, I believe that was the first time I saw Dad worried about you - And I mean really worried. The poor old man tried his best to get you back to your feet and I remember how I was scared shitless that you would die because you puked out everything that we would give you to eat and drink no matter what. I remember that it grew so bad that Dad needed to rush you to the nearest hospital in the middle of the night because we thought you were going to die. And of course, later Dad told me it was a hex bag that has been making you sick. Our father rather believed that there was some kind of evil witch out there that wanted to make you sick than an actual virus.«

If Dean remembered what he was talking about, he didn't show it. He had never seen his brother like this before. Not even when they had fought in the past or when Dean had been angry with his stupid little brother, had he outright ignored him like that. This was not the big brother Sam knew and loved. This, sitting across from him, was just an empty shell as it seemed. Dean looked as if he wasn't even here with him but imprisoned in his own mind. What horrors was he fighting right now behind this forehead? Sam thought about what Bobby had told him about his last visit and how Dean had been adamant that he had been the one who had killed their father. He still didn't know what to believe. His brother had worshipped their father. Whatever John Winchester had said had been the gospel Dean was living by.

Dean had never questioned their old man. Never dared to even think about something like that. No way Dean would kill their father. Not only didn't he have a reason to do this, but also he wouldn't have had the heart to do this. At least that much Sam could tell for certain and yet … in his current condition … maybe his illness had brought Dean to that point. If he had seen a demon in their father … No … Wouldn't it have been more like Dean to let himself get killed then? He would have never hurt his father of his own volition. But this new Dean that Sam had started to see ever since Dean came back into his life, this violent Dean who had even attacked him in a fit of rage and broke his nose in the process … Could he really vouch for him?

»I'm going to marry Jess.« He finally addressed the reason why he had come here. Of course, he wouldn't have to tell Dean but since Dean was the last member of his family, except for Adam, a part of him just wanted to tell him first, just like he would have talked to his parents first before asking Jess for her hand, as ridiculous as this might sound. This was important to him. When he had been younger, he had always imagined how this day might play out, when he would tell his big brother to whom he had always looked up, that he had met the girl he wanted to marry. He had always imagined how he and his brother would go on a bender to celebrate, how Dean would help him search for the perfect suit, how Dean would be at his side all the way standing with him at the altar when the big day would arrive. As he had been younger, he had never been able to imagine a life without his big brother by his side. He had even imagined how they would both be father's at one point and how their children would play together at the playground, how they would leave behind all the bad stuff of their childhood, the monsters, and darkness.

There was still no reaction coming from his brother, so he repeated it quietly. »Dean, did you hear me? I am going to marry Jessica. I am going to ask her tonight.« But still, his brother only stared blankly ahead as if he wasn't there. Because he wasn't, as a silent voice in his head provided. _He can't hear you because he isn't here_. »Dean« He urged as he grabbed his brother’s hands that were uselessly lying on the table. »Dean, come on. What do you think about it? Any words of wisdom from my big brother?« His brother’s hands were cold and he had the immediate urge to warm them with his own hands as Dean had done when they were children. He could remember his brother always taking care of him, always making sure that he had enough to eat and that he was warm and comfortable. And yes, years later, Sam was aware of the fact that no one had ever cared if Dean was fed, warm and comfortable.

Just for a second the thought that Bobby might be right crossed his mind. Maybe Dean needed his help - their help. Maybe now it was Sam’s turn to take care of his brother?  Well, even if that was the case, what was he supposed to do? He could not just get Dean out of here anyway and even if he would, what good would it do them?

Sam left only twenty minutes after he had arrived. Dean hadn't talked to him or acknowledged his presence at all, but Sam had kept talking, telling him about his studies like he had always wanted to when they had been out of contact for such a long time. And yet, as he left the hospital on this day, feeling the box with the ring inside the inside pocket of his jacket, he felt as if he shouldn't go. He felt like a complete failure for leaving Dean behind in this place and in this condition after everything his brother had always done for him. Still, with a sigh, Sam turned to the parking lot and made his way to his brother’s car.

※※※※※※※

His conversation with Dr. Whitman this day had been very one-sided for sure. Whatever had compelled Dean to cooperate with the man previously, was now holding him back. Of course, Whitman asked about his father again and Dean was silent once more. It wasn't like his mind was somewhere else and a part of him regretted that he had ignored his brother earlier in the day. His mind was exactly where it should be and though the electroshock therapy had left him scared shitless for a while, confused and dazed, with the drugs he was receiving only adding to his weird state of mind and general discomfort, he knew perfectly well what was going on around him. He had chosen not to take or react to Sammy. He had chosen not to talk or react to Dr. Whitman. Whatever was holding him back was keeping his jaw shut with an iron grip and he was unable to do anything about that. Maybe it was the ghost of his father keeping him from telling the truth once more. Castiel was the only person he felt comfortable opening up to. This sentiment should probably worry him - It didn't though, which was even more inherently worrying in itself, he assumed.

Yet, something about the angel was calming him and his nerves enough to actually think of that fateful night, even when he didn't want to. It was enough already that he had to relive this horror whenever he would fall asleep ever since the electroshock therapy as if the shocks had flipped a switch in his brain. That was why he refused to sleep, that was why he refused to take his sleeping pills. Oh, how much did he wish to be able to sneak over into Castiel’s room again every night to find a peaceful slumber, but of course, ever since they had been caught making out, their rooms were double checked every two hours or so.

»It's odd to remember so little of what happened when I'm awake while I can see and relive everything that has happened when I’m asleep.« He mumbled leaning against Castiel as they sat in the common room. It was raining buckets outside, much to Castiel's dismay. They would have had garden-duty today. The angel loved being outside and being able to watch the wonders of nature - especially the bees. »I mean … I can remember most of the night I killed my dad … but the important chunks are missing. I remember how we hunted that demon … No … We thought we would hunt a demon. I remember having the colt with me … I remember how we painted the Devils' trap. And then I only remember my father lying in a pool of his own blood on the ground and the colt was gone. I don't know how and I don't know why. All I know is that I killed my father in that night. I remember the anger I felt towards him for ruining my entire life. I remember how much I wanted to hurt him … I would never have thought that I would ever be capable of actually hurting him, though.«

Castiel weaved his fingers through his slowly growing hair. Hell, he needed a haircut. Both of them did but at least Dean didn't know Castiel any differently than with his messy black hair. His father would have already yelled at him that he started looking like a hippie, though. »Maybe you didn't do it then.« Castiel’s voice was a quiet mumble vibrating in his throat.

»No, Cas … I know I did. I feel that I did. It's like my father's blood would still be on my hands, you know?« He sighed and pulled away just enough to sit up straight again. He wasn't too comfortable being all lovey-dovey with another man in public anyway. »We promised each other that we would try to remind each other of the reality of things, remember? I _know_ that there was no demon. I _know_ that me and my father were delusional. I _know_ that these satanic symbols we drew everywhere meant nothing. I _know_ that it was me who killed my father. I _know_ all of this and I try to get better, I try to … I try to be normal.«

Which was not too easy when there was this demonic figure wearing his own face always lurking somewhere in the distance, always just in his peripheral vision, never leaving, never ceasing to taunt him. A part of him was almost afraid that Castiel didn't even exist now that he started to realize his own insanity. What if the angel didn't exist? What if he was just another figment of his imagination? Just another phantom? But he could touch him and he could feel the heat radiating from his body. Maybe that was why he wasn't too uncomfortable with being touched by Castiel or touching the angel for everyone around to see, always staying as close as possible to the other man, to remind himself that Castiel was real. He was, wasn't he?

»I want to be healthy and normal so that I can be a part of my brother’s wedding, you know?« Dean managed to continue although it started to feel harder again because the thought that his brother was in danger was never leaving him. »I want to stand at the altar with him when his big day arrives and I want to be a proper uncle to his kids one day. And I want to meet Adam. Despite everything my father did, I want to meet my little brother and cheer him on along the way.«

»But what if we are not crazy after all? What if we will never get better?« He didn't know if Castiel’s voice sounded hopeful or desperate at this point. Maybe it was a mix of both because that was how Dean felt.

»Then we will have to act the part. I'm not staying in this hell forever. I can't … I cannot … If I stay any longer I will probably kill myself. I can feel it.« Castiel's wonderful blue eyes rested on his face as intensely worried as ever. »I mean … Christ … I was never one for the easy way out, you know, Cas? But this place … It does something to me. I can feel it. I know that, if I stay any longer, I will die in here someway or another. And this scares the crap out of me.« Maybe it was because the demon was taunting him every night. Maybe it was because the demon was slitting his wrists every night. Maybe it was because the demon was pressing his pillow down on his face every night. Maybe it was because the demon was choking him with his bedsheets every night. Maybe it was because Dean could see himself hanging by the neck from the ceiling every goddamn night. And oh … Weren’t those images seducing.

»Then I’ll have to watch out for you.« Castiel hummed as close to him as always. Suddenly, Dean didn't even know if he would be able to lead a normal life without being so close to the angel all the time.

»Like a guardian angel?« Dean smirked and apparently the humor didn't escape Castiel for once as he replied that smirk with a very much crooked one of his own.

It was already late in the afternoon as Dean found himself alone in his room. Castiel was going through one of his treatments and would probably bitch about it later during dinner, as was mostly the case. At least his feathery friend was eating regularly now. He couldn't quite deny that he was bored out of his mind as he was rummaging through the books he had already piled up on his nightstand. At least that was one thing that was beneficial being at this place, he got time to actually read. Sam wasn't the only one who had always liked reading, it was just that Dean had had a lot less time on his hands usually. Still, it was probably time to give back most of the books he had been reading and so, he decided to use his spare time without Castiel reasonably as he picked up the pile of books.

As fate had it, the book on top, the one he had last stolen from Castiel's pile, slipped off and dropped to the floor just as he was about to turn around and leave. »Of course.« He sighed as he put the books down on his bed just to kneel on the ground and get the book that had slithered a bit underneath his bed after it had landed on the cold ground.

Just as his fingers touched it, however, Dean noticed something squeezed underneath his mattress into the bed frame. Until now he had refused to look under the bed, fearing to find a giant spider waiting for him because sometimes it was better not to know what was living underneath one’s bed. »What the hell?« And yet, despite his question, he knew exactly what this was even before he pried the weird lump of fabric free from his bed frame. He had seen these things a million times already in his life and as he now held the small leather bag in his right hand, a whole lot of puzzle pieces started to fall into place and he couldn't help but hear his little brother’s words echoing through his mind as he stared down at the hex bag.

 _Our father rather believed that there was some kind of evil witch out there that wanted to make you sick than an actual virus._ Dean remembered the event Sam had repainted for them both so vividly. Of course, he remembered this incident his brother had described to him this morning, after all, he almost died back then. An he remembered the case his father had been working on too, remembered the witch coven his father had pissed off with his presence in this small town and that he hadn't even actually ended the case but left town with him and Sam shortly after Dean had started to feel better out of sheer fear that something even worse would happen to his children would he stay. Dean’s sickness back then had been a mere warning to his father, but one too intense for Dean to ever be able to forget it.

And now he was here, kneeling on the polished tiles of his hospital room, clutching the same kind of leather bag in his right hand as his father had back then after he had found the hex bag underneath Dean’s bed.

Suddenly, the books were forgotten and instead, Dean jumped up with the hex bag in his hand only to hurry out of his room and further down the hall where Castiel's room was. Of course, there was no reason to immediately believe that Castiel had been hexed too and yet, it was the first thing that came to his mind. Sure enough, as he crouched down beside Cas’ bed and looked underneath it, there it was: Yet another hex bag squeezed into the bed frame of his angel, making him sick, making him think that he was a man who was dead and gone, making him think that he had killed this man’s family.

»Witches.« He breathed quietly. »Fuck, I hate witches.« But why would a witch target him _and_ Castiel in this place? Him, he could understand, but what had the angel done to deserve this? Well, the question remained: Had this witch been targeting Jimmy Novak or Castiel and was there a difference? Just because there was a hex bag under Castiel's bed, it did not mean that Castiel was really an angel and not just a crazy human. He could very well be crazy and targeted by the witch because … Because of Dean?

Castiel’s illness seemed to have gotten worse ever since Dean had been committed, after all. At least judging by the stories he had heard until now. Before Dean had come here, he had at least not been violent. Perhaps this witch was trying to drive them both utterly insane with those hex bags. If it was a witch at all.

»Do I really want to know what you are doing under my bed?« Castiel’s voice sounded as gravel and monotone as it usually did. »Is this something humans tend to do? Should I do it too?« He almost banged his head on the bed as he shot up again, holding the second hex bag close to his chest out of instinct first because he didn't know what to expect from Castiel. A stupid thought, of course. If he could trust anyone it would be Castiel. »Is everything alright? You look pale.«

Did he? He felt a little dizzy, that much was certain. Maybe it was from holding the hex bag so close to his chest or just coming from the realization what had been happening to him for over a month in this fucked-up place. He was not sick. He was just cursed! Right? Had he been cursed already when he had killed his father? Had he killed his father, though? Or was this too just a part of this whole mess? Despite the relieve of knowing that he was not crazy - at least not completely - Dean had to take a seat on Castiel's bed before he was able to take a deep breath. »I don't know … What's real anymore.« The words escaped him without his approval and he couldn't do anything about it. It was almost as if the demon had taken over that was still lurking in the background, watching him, waiting for him to make just one tiny wrong move. »I don't even know if you’re real anymore.«

Knowing Castiel for over a month already, Dean shouldn't be as surprised as he was, as the angel bridged the distance between door and bed, only to crouch down on the ground to Dean’s feet to grab the hands that were uselessly lying on Deans knees and squeeze them. Of all the things he liked about this man, it were his lips. Truly, they were bitten and dry and brittle - just like his - and his stubbles scratched Dean’s skin when they would kiss, but as he pressed a kiss on his knuckles now, he couldn't help but enjoy the warm feeling rushing through his body.

»Your hands are cold.« Castiel remarked quietly. He didn't say anything like ‘of course, I am real’ because he knew that this wouldn't prove anything to Dean, because he knew that his madness would not allow him to believe these words. Or was it … because he was not real? How should he know what was real or not? »You should take a hot bath to get a bit of warmth back in those bones.«

»I'm not really the type for hot baths.« He found himself smirking shakily and had to pull himself together so that he wouldn't melt right into Castiel’s touch as the angel took his hands from Dean’s to instead cup his face ever so gently, almost as if he was the most precious thing the angel had ever seen. Heck, Castiel would make a damn good guardian angel for sure. He, for a start felt exceptionally save and calm under Castiel’s loving touches. And, hell, loving they were, even though he didn't like to admit that, even though he was still frightful of accepting this truth not only about himself but about Castiel too, he couldn't deny that he felt at ease with this man, accepted even. He couldn't remember if he had ever felt this way before … at least not around his father or Sammy. All they had ever done was demand stuff from him. His childhood, his whole entire life, if nothing else. He had reached a point now, where he could recognize that neither his father nor Sam had ever really cared about him. Castiel, however … He did care. He could feel it. And this feeling was strange to him.

»What do you have there?« Castiel finally addressed the hex bags after Dean had almost forgotten about them thanks to Castiel presence. Now that he remembered the hex bags in his hands, however, his mind started racing again as he showed them to Castiel. »I found these under our beds. These are hex bags, they are used to curse people. They can also be used for protection, but I doubt that this is what's going on here.«

»Dean … Didn't we agree on always reminding each other of the reality of our situation?« Cas frowned, his brows furrowed and his forehead wrinkled as he looked up at Dean out of his deep blue eyes almost like a beaten puppy. »You know that there is no such thing as magic and curses.«

»Yeah … Yes, I know, Cas … But … I have seen those before. I know they are … real.« But were they? His eyes must have expressed his feeling of being completely lost in his own mind all too well, as Castiel rose to his feet to sit down next to him, pulling him tightly against his chest without even so much as a care in the world if Dean actually wanted it or not. Dean, however, was thankful for the hug as he leaned closer against Castiel, closing his eyes to take a deep breath to steady himself and inhaling the smell of the angel deeply. He smelled like the soap they all had to use in the showers and like freshly washed clothes. Well, not the sexiest smell in the world but truly a source of comfort right now. »Still« He caught himself before he could get too lost in the moment and pulled away, standing up with shaking knees. »Let me destroy those - just in case.«

»Dean thats-«

»No … I mean … If I destroy them and nothing changes … then I would have prove, right? Then I would have proof that I'm just crazy. But if I don't do it … I will never know. Cas … This uncertainty - not knowing what's real or not … It drives me even more crazy. I feel like I'm losing myself, as if I would lose more of me everyday. I need proof!« He had always known that he could rely on his quick mind and his sharp wit but now having this stipped away from him piece by piece, layer by layer was the worst feeling of all. If his dad had taught him one thing that that a man could literally lose everything he possessed and yet would always be able to get back up, but taking one’s sanity away - there was no coming back from that.

Castiel did not look very pleased with his argument and he could already see that he wanted to keep talking sense into Dean. As he should. They made a deal, after all, and Castiel was usually a whole lot better in sticking to his end of the deal than Dean, which was probably because a part of Dean was longing for refusing to accept how crazy he really was. He didn't, however. Instead, he sighed and drove both hands through his thick black hair, ruffling it up even more so than before. Maybe that was his way of fluffing his feathers now that he didn't have wings. It started to get long and curl at the ends. Well, they were not getting regular haircuts in this place, after all. »Alright. And how are we going to do this?«

Despite how batshit crazy his childhood had been, at least for one thing he could thank his father. John Winchester had taught him pretty early on how to pick locks and steal - traits that came in handy while living on the road and never having a home, especially now that he needed a lighter. The nurses were all easily distracted and so it was almost too easy to steal the lighter from Nurse Bob, one of the smokers of this facility as he was chatting with Nurse Paul near the office and didn't pay attention to what was happening behind his back. He could be glad that Dean was not attempting to murder him as he snuck up on him to steal the lighter from the back pocket of his uniform pants. It was quick and easy and Dean was back with Castiel in no time, finding his angel pacing Dean’s room like a caged lion.

»Close the door.« He addressed the angel inside the room as he hurried to get the trash can beside his bedside table in the corner of his room. It was metal, the perfect tool to use for what he was about to do and Cas was quick to shut the door silently, staying close to stand guard with his back to Dean, looking out of the window in the door just in case anyone would come down the hallway because if they would be caught not only with the door closed but with a fire in the bin they both knew that all hell would break loose.

Dean would be sent to unit four and separated from Castiel and that he could not let happen. Just thinking about it made his stomach churn and that not only because he didn't want to be sent to the real crazy motherfuckers upstairs but because he was terrified of the thought of what might happen to the angel would he no longer be here to watch out for him - and what might happen to _him_ , if Cas was no longer there to watch out for him either. He didn't even know which would be worse. He could deal with pain and humiliation. All of that. But he didn't know if he would be able to deal with knowing that Castiel was suffering. Last time the angel had been inside the padded cells had been torture for Dean. No day had gone by without him trying to sneak in and have a glimpse at his friend, no day had gone by without him being worried sick to his stomach.

So, he hurried as he threw both hex bags into the bin and lit them on fire with his burrowed lighter. It didn't take much for both hex bags to catch fire and burst into flames inside the metal bin. A part of him had expected that something would happen immediately, like a blast of energy washing through the air and hitting them as the curses were lifted that was put upon them. Nothing happened, though. The hex bags just burned to ashes pretty quickly and that was it. He didn't feel any different and as he looked over his shoulder at Castiel, the angel too didn't seem to feel any different now that he turned his head slowly towards Dean either.

»Well, apparently I am crazy.« Dean sighed as he watched the flames in his bin for a moment longer as they were swallowing up the hex bags for good. It hadn't worked. Of course, it hadn't worked. It hadn't worked because there was no such thing as magic! It hadn't worked because there was no such thing as witches or demons! It was all just in his head and that meant that he had indeed killed his own father. He had thrown his entire life away. He was twenty-seven years old, had dropped out of school at age sixteen, had no money to his name and no accomplishments under his belt - and all of this just because he had lived a lie ever since he was four years old. At this thought, Dean felt like his knees were slowly refusing to keep him upright and he had to take a seat on the edge of his bed, his stomach churning in nausea.

Of course, that was not entirely his fault, right? He was not to blame for all of this! It was his father who had dragged him along and gave him no other choice than to believe in all of this crap! _But Sammy has managed to free himself from all of this, right?_ , the tiny nagging voice in the back of his mind said. Sammy had never believed in any of this. Sammy had a life of his own now. He would marry the girl of his dreams and become a lawyer and actually have a decent life - and all of that without Dean by his side because Dean would stay in this hell for the rest of his life, a drooling mess sitting in a corner and talking to a person that didn't even exist. Then again … Sammy was so much smarter than him anyway. He had always been. Dean had made sure of that.

»It's okay.« Castiel’s voice from the door was almost too quiet to be heard over the voices in his own head which only seem to have grown louder now that the hex bag was destroyed, yelling and screaming at full volume at him. »It's okay, Dean.«

»No, it's not. It's really not.« He brushed the angel off and felt bad about it immediately as the words left his mouth. Castiel wanted to help, after all. »It's really not okay…« As he looked up at Cas with burning eyes, he expected to see the demon out of the corner of his eyes as he was so used to by now. He wasn't there though and even the voices in his head started to slowly quiet down. It was like slowly waking up from a bad dream. For a moment, everything still seemed dark and horrible, but slowly, very, very slowly the light started to seep back into the room as if the sun had been hiding behind thick dark clouds and only now got a chance of making its presence known again.

As Cas turned around and away from the door, he could see it on his face that he was feeling the exact same way and as their eyes met this time, it was almost as if the angel would see him for the very first time clearly. »Dean Winchester.« That was all he managed to breathe out at the sight of Dean, before the hunter had jumped from his bed, crossed the distance between them and all but crushed Castiel’s warm body against the door in a feverish kiss. He didn't quite know why this was his first impulse and yet, the way Castiel had looked at him, the way his name had rolled of his tongue as if he hadn't seen Dean before, or as if he had reached some level of deeper understanding unbeknownst to Dean, had given him no other choice than this and as Castiel was already clutching at his neck to keep him closer, he knew that he wasn't quite so alone with these strange feelings.

If there wouldn't have been the danger of getting caught and then separated, Dean would have already pulled Castiel to the bed and pinned the angel there without giving him the chance of getting back up anytime soon. Instead, he pulled away from the angel again. »I remember now.« This was the first thing Castiel breathed out as they parted from their kiss again. »I remember why I’m down here … I remember what happened … I remember _you_.«

There was a knock on the door before Dean could even begin to comprehend what his angel had just told him and they were both quick to step away from the door, hiding the trash can with their bodies as they took position right in front of it as the door was opened from the outside. Of all people who could have caught them, it was, thankfully, Gabriel. This man, whoever he was, really was a guardian angel. »Why hello boys, I believe there’s something burning in here - or maybe that's just you two having the hots for each other.« He joked as he leaned in the door frame with the same mischievous smile pulling on his lips before he was taking a quick bite from the chocolate bar he was holding in his left hand. His eyes seemed even more gleeful than ever before to Dean. »You know that you’re not allowed to close that door - especially not when you guys are alone in the same room.« The wiggle of his eyebrows was just a tad bit annoying to Dean but hardly enough to be actually bothered by it. At least not now, not after the realization that he was not at all crazy had finally struck him.

Monsters were real. Demons were real. Witches were real. The demon in the corner of his room was gone and so were the voices. He hadn't killed his father! He had … And yet he had blood on his hands. And yet his father was dead. Yet, the demon was free and a rush of panic surged through his body at this thought. Sammy. Meg, that fucking demon bitch, had told him that _someone_ was already watching out for Sammy. Maybe his brother had been possessed all along? Maybe that was why his baby brother had been all too happy to throw him in the loony bin like that? And his visits lately? Had the demon allowed Sammy control every now and again or had those visits been only there to taunt and torture Dean? Or was Sammy not possessed at all? Had all of this been how his brother really thought about him?

»Let me take care of your trash, boys.« Gabriel shouldered his way past the boys and towards the gently smoldering trash can. He did it without saying anything about the fire that had raged in the bin previously as if he would either not care or had expected nothing else. All in all, it was beyond odd for Gabriel to react so nonchalantly to a trashcan fire in the room. What if _he_ was the demon who had cursed him and Castiel and this friendly janitor was just a facade to get access to them more easily? Dean's lips became a narrow line at this thought and yet he didn't attack Gabriel right away. He had to wait for the right moment because if Gabriel was indeed a demon, he had to be careful and Gabriel could not learn that he and Cas knew the truth now. He couldn't risk the angel getting hurt, that was, oddly enough, at the moment his most pressing concern.

As night fell over the asylum, Dean was restless again. His pills were making him tired, even more so than usually did due to the lack of sleep he had had in the past couple of days ever since he had gone through the horrible experience that was electroconvulsive therapy. He had been too afraid of the nightmares that would grip him when closing his eyes, of seeing his father die over and over and over again through his own hands. At least now he knew what was really going on. Whoever the demon or witch was who had been driving Castiel and him insane in this facility, had done so to keep him from Sam, so that Sammy would be without protection. But why? Had this been Azazel’s plan all along? But what did he want with Sam? Why always Sam?

No matter what was truly going on out there, Dean knew that he had to get out of this facility as quickly as possible. He just had to. He had to get to Sam, no matter if his brother was the one who was possessed or if someone was with him who was a demon.

It took him hours to settle down in his bed and even then sleep refused to come. His mind was racing all the while one hundred miles per hour as he lay awake and stared at the ceiling. Maybe now that he knew that he wasn't crazy, he was even more afraid to fall asleep than ever. He was afraid what horrors he would see now because the truth remained. His father had died through his hands and Dean could still see it play out in front of him and he could still see the black smoke leaving his mouth as his father had fallen to the ground and he could still feel how his father had taken his last breath while Dean had only been able to hold him tightly in his arms, a sobbing mess splattered with his father’s blood from head to toe.

He threw himself on his side as these thoughts managed to claim his mind. He had to focus on something else. How should he get out of here with Castiel? They had managed to escape before but how big were their chances of getting out again? And if Gabriel was indeed the one pulling the strings, then he probably knew that the boys had found the hex bags and destroyed them with this fire earlier this day. He wouldn't make it easy for them this time. How was he going to destroy a demon without the colt? Without having something to draw a Devils' trap with so that he would be able to exorcise him without the danger of getting attacked? They would both be dead before they would be able to finish the first sentence of the exorcism. He had to find a way to get rid of Gabriel and he had to get out of this hell before it would be too late before his brother would be in serious danger. He felt his eyelids getting heavier with each thought passing through his brain, getting sluggish and slow.

Sleep finally hit him but the moment he fell asleep, Dean knew that this was the biggest mistake he could have ever made.

 

**-End of Chapter 18-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think in the comments! <3
> 
> Maybe you'll like my other two Supernatural fanfics as well? Have a look:  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/12340470/chapters/28065087  
> http://archiveofourown.org/works/13190916/chapters/30172848


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I re-read this chapter quite a few times and just so you know: I'm not completely satisfied with it. Still, I hope you'll like it and I hope I included everything. Please keep in mind, Sam does not know what the readers know. I hope he can somewhat redeem himself in this chapter! After all, he was just a pawn in this game and please keep in mind, Sammy still very much loves his big brother xD

It wasn't perhaps as he had always envisioned it to be when he would finally make the big step and actually ask his girlfriend to marry him. He had always thought that he would book a nice table in some fancy Italian or French restaurant, buy her a dozen red roses, wear his best suit, and have the most romantic night in the history of romantic nights. After all, if there was one thing his brother had taught him, it was how to treat a lady right. Instead, he was cooking pasta while Jessica was on her way home from work. They were running low on money and Jessica Moore was, thankfully, a very down to earth kind of girl and didn't care much for fancy outings. That was one thing he loved about her anyway. As they had moved into this flat, they had had nothing except for a few cardboard boxes and yet their first dinner in their own home - takeaway Chinese food from the story down the street - it had been the most romantic night of his life. Only him and Jessica, one of the cardboard boxes as a table and a few candles to set the mood.  

One thing was for certain: He had never thought that when his big day would come that his mind would then be occupied with the fate of his brother and his visit to the asylum earlier this day instead of what he really was meant to focus his mind on. Yet, while he was dressing the table as nicely as possible with the limited budget and utensils that two poor college kids possessed, Sam could hardly tear his thoughts away from his big brother’s fate and how truly emotionless he had been as Sam had visited him this morning.

Even when they had been fighting in the past while growing up, his brother had never ignored him like that. Dean had not even looked at him. He had not even reacted to him in any way whatsoever, not even to the news he had for his brother. He was disappointed, yes, that was the truth. He really was disappointed with his brother for not reacting to these news of his. That was not the Dean that Sam knew and yet, he felt as if he had never quite known his brother in the first place. Well, whatever they had done to Dean since the last time he had seen him there, it had obviously stuck this time and Sam didn't know if he liked that or not. He missed his brother. He missed Dean’s happy-go-lucky attitude and his huge smile when something would amuse him.

As Jessica arrived back home she was stressed from her day battling with annoying, entitled customers, but as she walked in only to see the candlelight dinner that Sam had prepared for her, it was as if the stress fell off her shoulders just like this. Had he not felt nervous before, the moment Jess sat down with him at their shabby little table, his heart was racing for sure. Well, from the moment he had met Jessica, from the moment he had fallen in love with this woman, he had known that this day would come and that he would ask her to marry him at one point in their life as a couple. The circumstances were beyond ideal, of course, and that was only highlighted by the first thing she asked him. »How did your visit go? Is Dean okay?« She smiled as Sam poured her a glass of the finest red wine that he could afford. At least it was not a boxed wine. »I thought a lot about it today, actually. Maybe we could bring him a few books next time. What do you think? Or comics? I bet your brother loves comics.« He actually did, as Sam was very well aware.

Other guys might have gotten the wrong idea about the situation if their girlfriend would ask so many questions about their brother, maybe even get jealous, but this care that Jessica showed for his family, was exactly one of the many reasons why he loved her so dearly.  It would have been easy for her to just ignore that Dean was even existing and yet, she actually cared about him. She actually worried that he might not be okay inside the asylum - or that he could be bored.

A smile brushed over his face at this and he had to remind himself to fill his own glass instead of drowning in Jessica's eyes as if he was falling for her for the first time now all over again. »You are actually amazing, you know that?« He smirked.

»Well, I'm certainly not arguing with you on that.« She chuckled. »But dare I ask what made you come to this conclusion?«

»Just … Everything.« He brushed his right hand through his hair like he always did when he was getting nervous and already he could feel sweat in the back of his neck. »The visit was actually quite awful. Dean’s getting worse in there, you know? Whatever they do, he wouldn't even look at me today. He was like … He was apathetic. Yes, completely apathetic. I've never seen him like this.«

Jessica looked at him with worried eyes as she grabbed his left hand gently and squeezed it reassuringly. »Oh, Honey … I'm sorry.« She cooed. »But that was the point of all of this, wasn't it?« Suddenly, Sam felt like he was in a bad dream as her voice changed from sweet like candy to almost dark and threatening with no warning from one second to the next. The moment he looked up from their intertwined hands and up into her blue eyes, they were black.

※※※※※※※

Bobby was a man who didn't give much about people who decided that they didn't want him in their lives and that was something that held obviously true for Sam Winchester. No matter how much it really pained him to accept and acknowledge the fact that Sam didn't want him to be part of his life any longer, he couldn't quite stop thinking about the boy - and about Dean. He had raised those boys since they had been pint-sized. He loved them like they were his own kids. No matter how harsh Sam’s words had been, Bobby Singer would not leave it at that. He could sense that there was something deeply wrong, not only with Dean in that asylum, but with Sam too. And although his bond with Dean had always been the much stronger one, he would never let Sam down too - not when Bobby had this nagging feeling deep down in his guts that his boy, that Sam, was in danger. No matter what Sam would throw his way or how harsh his words would be, he still loved the boy.

And, whether he liked it or not, he needed Sam’s help to break Dean out of this hospital - especially in Dean’s current condition. So, Bobby pulled into the street Sam was living in and just as he was about to park his old truck on the across the road from Sam's apartment there was a loud explosion, windows shattering and a ball of fire protruding out of a window of the fourth floor of Sam’s apartment building.

※※※※※※※

First, Sam had been certain that his mind was playing tricks on him, but Jessica’s smile was cruel and distorted as she looked at him. Her face was a strange and unrecognizable grimace and as she chuckled, it didn't even seem to be her voice anymore. Startled by fear, Sam jumped off his chair and stumbled backward, knocking his chair over in the process. The sound as his chair clattered to the ground was almost as if he was ripped from a bad dream only to awake into an even bigger nightmare because Jessica's eyes remained pitch black as she slowly rose from her own chair now to approach him.

»What's wrong, Sammy? You look so scared.« She cooed with that menacing smile that did not even belong to her. »You look like you’ve seen a ghost.« His first instinct was to think that he was now going crazy too or that his father and brother’s paranoia had infected him now as well, but then he realized that what he was seeing was true, that this was no dream, that her eyes were, in fact, black, that she was not Jessica anymore.

And as this thought hit him with its full impact, Sam realized that everything that his father and brother had told him in the past was the truth. That was how little it took for Sam Winchester to understand how wrong he had been all this time. »What the hell are you?« He found himself hissing and yet his voice failed him. He had lost all control over his voice, all control over his life. He knew what Jessica was and he didn't need her or anyone else to tell him. He could feel it and for the moment he wondered how in the world he had not been able to feel it from the start. Or had he?

»You know what I am, Sammy.« She smiled softly as she slowly walked closer, backing Sam into a corner almost as he stumbled into the kitchen and grabbed the first thing he could find on the counter. A knife. The same knife he had used for cutting the onions for the sauce. There was still a voice in his head screaming at him that this was Jessica and that he could not go after her with a knife and yet, there was another, a calmer voice inside his head, reassuring him that this thing wasn't human, that this thing was dangerous.

»You made me put my own brother in an asylum.« He breathed as his throat had suddenly become very tight and restricted. »You made me think he was crazy.«

»No … Oh no … That was _you_ , Sammy. That was all you. You wanted this right here, you wanted the girl and the normal life and to get this your brother had to be crazy - at least in your own eyes. But don't worry, we made him crazy. By now he should be scratching out his own eyes to stop the hallucinations or strangle himself to death with the bedsheets.« He needed to get to his brother. How could he have been so blind? How was this even possible for fuck’s sake? Why had he not seen these things sooner? »Let's admit it, Sammy, it has been fun while it lasted. I mean, you got the chance to play Mr. Moral-High-Ground while your poor big brother was behind lock and key, right? Must have been an awesome feeling, Sammy Winchester. You know, some of the others were never quite sold on you, but Azazel … Well, you were always his favorite of all his children. The one he thought to be the chosen one. I can't blame him for thinking like this now that I got to know you a little better. I mean _Sam Winchester_. Born into a family of hunters without even knowing it! Oh, your mother and the deal she made was Azazel’s biggest success for sure, Honey. And now is finally the time to reap his rewards.«

»What the hell are you even talking about?« He was frantic by now and unable to process the things he was hearing. None of it was making any sense to him! And how could it? Monsters weren’t real, right? Except, apparently, they were. He felt as if he was the one losing his mind. He felt as if he was the one whose memories had been altered. The demon, however, seemed to find great amusement in all of this. Her laughter was so much like Jessica's, so much like the sound he had fallen in love with, and yet it was so very different all the same. It pained him to see or hear the demon laugh with Jessica's face.

»Oh, Sammy is this really the way to talk to your girlfriend? Is this the way to speak to the girl you wanted to ask to be your wife tonight?«

»How do you-«

»Oh, please, Samuel. What don't I know? This would be the much more interesting question, I suppose.«

»I don't understand any of this!« He groaned. »Jess what the hell-«

»Oh, but I'm not Jess, Sammy. Although, I have to say it is quite comfortable inside of her.« The demon chuckled and brushed her hand against Sam’s cheek as she had backed him against the kitchen counter. »We have been watching you, Sammy, ever since you were a child. It was Azazel’s wish that we would keep an eye on you, make sure you don’t leave the stage before it would be your time, Honey. We were your own kind of guardian angel - which is quite ironic, I suppose for your poor crazy brother had a true angel watching over him for all this time and now, that poor thing, is just as doomed and lost and broken as sweet baby Deanie. I have to admit, it was a joy seeing him in this padded cell. The great hunter Dean Winchester, the big baddy in the monster world who had killed so many vampires and werewolves ever since he was a child, reduced to a whimpering mess who talks to himself and the demons in his head.«

He clutched the knife in his hand harder and suddenly he knew, he _felt_ that he was in grave danger and if he wouldn't act fast, he would not get out alive. This demon would eat him alive or maybe even worse things than that. As he plunged the knife deep into Jessica's chest he felt like he wasn't himself. He felt like he was not even in control of his own body as if he was standing beside his own body, watching himself stabbing the love of his life - that creature. And in the second that the knife was buried in her chest to the hilt, he was back inside his body and felt the blood oozing out of his girlfriend’s body and over his hands.

»Jessica« He breathed and felt his lips tremble as he did, staring into her eyes, but the demon grinned with all it's teeth at him, showing no sign of pain at all.

»It's too late, Sam Winchester.« The demon leered with Jessica’s voice and yet Sam couldn't do anything except staring down at his hands and the blood before he pulled away his hands in horror and stumbled backwards out of the kitchen until his legs hit the couch. »Everything will be revealed.« Sam acted without thinking as he jumped over the couch, watching as the demon slowly walked towards him with the knife still buried in its chest with no care in the world. He grabbed his brother’s duffel bag and shoved his hand inside until he found the flask of holy water, but as he pulled it out, the demon only laughed at him.

»It's just water, Sammy!« She laughed and her voice was almost hysteric at this. »Why do you think it didn't work on Meg? You should calm down, Sam … This is your destiny. You are born to lead, born to be Hell's most fearsome weapon! Don't be scared, Sammy! I would never harm you and you know that. Come now … What do you have to lose? Your brother is already dead and you … Oh, Sam, you will rule. You will be the boyking of Hell and everyone will bow before you. Isn't that what you always dreamed of? You were never a part of this family anyway and didn't you feel that this was true your entire life? I know you always felt different, always felt that you didn't belong and that is because you didn't, Sam! You were never one of them. We are your real family, Sam.«

As the demon came to a halt right behind the couch and placed it's hands down on the backrest, it suddenly offered Sam a hand. The situation couldn't be any more grotesque, Sam decided. There stood the girl he loved, a knife embedded deep in her chest, alive and well with pitch black eyes staring back at him and all a part of his brain asked him to do was to accept her hand and return to his normal life and yet he knew that this thing standing there was not Jessica, that it was not even human. Suddenly, he wondered just how he had not seen it before. Had it's act been just so good that it had been able to fool him so thoroughly? Or had he willingly turned a blind eye to all of this? He had wanted a normal life. He had _wanted_ a life without monsters and the supernatural. He had _wanted_ this perfect girl and the normal problems that any person faced in their normal lives. He had fallen prey to these monsters and he had walked right into their trap because they had given him what he had always wanted to have. »We can give you what you want, Sam.« She cooed. »I can heal Jessica’s wound and we can return back to normal. Even better: We can have everything you want, Sam. And I mean _everything_. Money, a nice house, children ... You name it.«

»Since when are you inside of her?« Sam finally found his trembling voice again and slowly stepped back once more.

»A few months.« The demon smirked and started to circle around the couch to bridge the distance between them again. »Don't worry, your precious girlfriend is still in here with me and she can feel and hear _everything_.«

This thought alone was horrifying to Sam. What pain and sorrow was Jessica feeling right now? What horrors had she been subjected to since that thing took over her body? Almost he would have pushed the TV down from it's table as he hit it with his hips and it was just then that he found the crucifix that Dean had in his duffel. He needed out. He needed to escape. Whatever it would take, he couldn't stay. Yes, the demon’s offer was tempting, yes he wanted to accept but the better part of his mind knew that he had to save his brother if it wasn't already too late. So, in a second of sheer desperation, Sam ripped the crucifix out of the duffle bag, bridged the distance between him and the demon and pressed the cross against Jessica's forehead. The demon hollered in pain as the cross burned itself into the skin and Sam used the opportunity to throw himself around and flee the apartment, grabbing the keys to the Impala from the little bowl on the side table with only Dean’s duffel bag under his arm.

»Sam Winchester!« The demon shouted and Sam, out of sheer idiocy paused in the hallway to look back at her and once again, the demon grinned at him. »You could have had everything, Sam.« And then a cloud of black smoke poured out of her mouth before, suddenly, Jessica's body shot up to the ceiling. Sam was entranced in the sight of his girlfriend pinned to the ceiling before, in a flash, the apartment caught fire and he only had the chance to run.

※※※※※※※

Castiel awoke to some unfamiliar sound in his ears and for a second or two, it echoed in his head ever so quietly. Then he started to realize that it hadn't been a sound at all but a name. A _name,_ echoing through his mind. Dean Winchester. That was what he had heard deep inside his own head. Since Dean had destroyed those hex bags, his mind seemed a lot clearer and less foggy. It was as if a veil had been lifted and suddenly he could see the world again for what it was. Finally, for once, there was no doubts in his mind anymore. Finally, after months in this hell, he could think clearly again and he knew who he was and what he was and why he had been sent down to earth in the first place. He had been sent down to earth for Dean Winchester. That was what he knew now without a doubt left in his mind.

But why had he lost his grace? What had happened to him? Why was he here now? Within just a few hours he had made three steps forward and took two steps back again. Then again … Maybe he was here, at this hospital, because of Dean. Maybe he had been supposed to meet him here, to help him. To help him do … what? What exactly? Despite everything, it still was as if what he was supposed to do was blocked out from his mind, as if something was keeping him from what he was supposed to know and see. He had to get out, together with Dean. They had to get out, save Dean’s brother and … what?

Dean.

Suddenly he grew aware of the sounds coming from the hallway. Heavy steps walking down the hall and Castiel rose to his feet without thinking about it as he slowly stepped towards his cell door to look outside through the window. In the light of the hallway, he could see a man, one of the nurses, walk up to a cell further down the hall. It was Dean’s cell, that he could determine immediately. He watched how the nurse opened the cell and walked inside and only moments later, Castiel grew witness to how the nurse walked back out again, dragging a seemingly unconscious Dean with him, his grip tight around Dean’s arms as his friend's head slumped forward like that of an old doll.

※※※※※※※

The moment Sam ran out of the building, followed shortly by numerous of the other inhabitants, he realized that he had never been this glad to see Bobby Singer than he was now that the old drunk came rushing up towards him and pulled him into a bear hug that managed to squeeze every bit of air out of Sam’s lungs.

»She was a demon.« That was the first thing Sam managed to say to Bobby and he didn't even realize that he was indeed saying these things. The words just escaped on their own and there was nothing Sam could do to stop them from escaping his mouth. »She was a demon.« The words just slipped him without his permission like when a child would wake up from a nightmare and spout out what it had seen, but Bobby just pulled him closer, one large hand in Sam’s neck and he didn't even care that he had to bend down to Bobby's level. He was just oh so glad that Bobby was here. Maybe he had been bewitched by Jessica or this other girl - Meg - before. He honestly didn't know and he didn't care either because, in this moment, it suddenly was like coming home. It was like he was able to see everything clearly for the first time in months as if some heavy weight was suddenly lifted from his shoulders while an even heavier weight was dragging him back down.

Jessica was dead.

She was dead and _he_ had killed her. That was the truth of the situation, wasn't it? He had killed the woman of his dreams and now his whole life was going up in flames and Sam knew … He knew that he couldn't stay. His life in Stanford, his life at college, becoming a lawyer, being normal - all these things were going up in flames right now. The police would find Jessica's body and they would know that she had been killed. Sam knew that he couldn't stay here for a second longer and yet, he felt unable to move, so it was Bobby, who made him move. »Dean.« He managed to choke out as Bobby was gently pushing him towards the Impala. »We need to get Dean.«

Bobby took the keys from him, unlocked the car doors and squeezed behind the wheel. By now the whole street was in uproar as people started to gather around the burning building and the sirens of fire trucks were approaching in the distance. Sam could only watch how his life derailed and how that perfect little bubble that he had built for himself burst into thousands and thousands of tiny little shards of glass to hit him in the face and rip open his skin. Jessica was dead. His normal life was over. Those were the things that repeated over and over and over in his head. He would have expected the shock to fall off of him as Bobby drove down the street with him in the passenger's seat, but it didn't. He had hoped that his mind would start becoming clearer again, but it didn't. He had thousands of questions and no one who could answer him.

»Don't worry, we’re going to get Dean tonight.« Bobby reassured him quietly.

»He is in great danger.« Sam said because as long as he was speaking and focusing his mind on something but the fire and Jessica's death, he maybe would be able to function in some way or another. As long as he would try to blend out the grief that was taking over his broken heart now, he maybe would be able to walk forwards without crumbling down. He just had to focus on a different task and suddenly he remembered that this was exactly how their life in his childhood had worked and how Dean had ended up in this complete chaos. Yet, it was the only thing he could do now and so he started to explain Bobby what had happened in his flat while the biggest part of him just wanted to break down in tears and feel the loss and the terror of the events that had unfolded. Instead, his childhood came crashing back down on him. Instead, his father's voice and his drill came back to him and he knew that he couldn't allow himself to feel anything at all in this moment, except for the fear he felt for his big brother and his well-being. He couldn't lose Dean too. Not now. If Dean would die like Jessica said … He would never be able to forgive himself.

»I don't understand any of that, Bobby.« He was finally willing to admit. »She talked about someone named Azazel … and … crap, Bobby! Dean was right from the start! The girl he attacked was a demon! She was working with Jess - with that demon inside of Jess! But who is Azazel? And what did she mean with all that bullshit? _Boyking of hell_? What the fuck just happened, Bobby?« His voice was shaking and he was desperate for answers as the Impala roared down the country road leading out of Stanford and closer to their destination while the heart in Sam’s chest was racing one hundred miles per hour again this night.

»I wish I could help you, Sam.« Bobby breathed. »But I'm just as clueless. All I know is that name, Azazel. Your father told me about him shortly before his death, after he found a lead on the thing that killed your mother. Apparently, he was the demon who was behind her death, Sam, but I'm not one bit smarter than you in this regard. I don't know what's going on or what Azazel wants with you. All I know is that he wants to see your brother dead, to remove him from your life, perhaps so that you are willing to follow him.«

»That will never happen.« Not after tonight. Jessica was dead. His father was dead. He only had Dean and Adam but … he could never involve Adam in this, could he? He could never risk his baby brother’s life like this. He should stay as far away from Adam and his mom as possible from now on and even the thought pained him. »I wanted to marry her, Bobby.« He finally bit out and this time, he couldn't help the flood of emotions washing over him as he was still pressing his brother’s duffle bag close to his chest. The sheer disbelieve that the girl that he loved was no longer there and that he had been the one who had plunged that knife deep into her chest, was almost too much for him to handle.

»That demon would have killed her one way or another, Sam.« Bobby suddenly said as if he knew what Sam was thinking. »That bastard would have killed her in front of your eyes and you had to defend yourself. It's not your fault, Sam.« Bobby's huge hand rested upon his shoulder and though it was warm and the gesture reassuring and familiar, Sam felt freezing cold inside.  

»I just wanted a normal life, Bobby.« He couldn't stop the tears from falling down his cheeks now that they were about to leave town and everything else that had mattered to Sam just hours before behind. He had no home, nothing on him except for the clothes he was wearing. He only had his brother’s car and weapons and suddenly everything was as it had been all those years ago. It was as if he was doomed to live his life on the road, always moving, never able to press pause and be normal.

»I know.« Bobby replied gently and his hand remained on his shoulder. »And I wished you could have done that too, Son. I always wished that you boys could have had a normal life. Your father should have never dragged you into this war of his in the first place.«

»No … No it wouldn't have changed a thing, Bobby. Azazel would have found me anyway. This war of Dad … it's ours too and I can't fight it without Dean.« He took a deep breath. »How am I ever going to make it up to him, Bobby?« And an even worse thought now crept into his mind. He had seen Dean only this morning. He had seen how his brother had acted. What if they would never get him back? What if Dean would forever stay this way from now on? What if his brother would be lost and trapped in his own mind forever? He had put unspeakable pain on Dean with this treatment. He would never be able to make up for it and yet his brother would forgive him because that was what Dean did whether Sam deserved it or not. That was how it had always been.

※※※※※※※

As Dean came back to his senses, his mind immediately provided him with one sentiment: _You fucked up big time_. And Dean agreed wholeheartedly even before the world around him began to take shape. His mind was foggy and the world around him was white as snow. His head hurt like a bitch and just everything was just too bright, too loud, too much all at once. He could feel his eyes rolling back into his head and yet the whiteness around remained and he didn't know what all of this was. Maybe he was dreaming. Maybe this was yet just another of his endless nightmares. He had been sure that he would be done with this crap now that he and Cas were free from the hex bags again, free to be themselves again and able to see the world for what it really was and yet he was still stuck in his own mind and the torment that his soul had to offer to him. He wanted to scream but something was stuck between his teeth, holding his jaw shut firmly.

And finally, all came back to him at once and Dean started to realize what was happening to him.

His wrists and ankles were bound to a bed he was lying on, he felt the pressure of something pressing into his temples, the neon lights above him were bright, wide and aggressive as they were shining down on him and there was movement to his left-hand side. He had been here before. In this room and in this situation. He knew what this was all about and that this time he would not get away with a headache and feeling dazed for a few days.

»Dean Winchester.« The voice was dull at first before his ears started to pick up on every little sound more clearly now. »Deanie, Deanie, Deanie.« Paul. He knew this fucking voice. And sure enough, Nurse Paul came into focus as Dean turned his head to his side to finally look at the man who had him at his mercy. »It strikes me that you never seem to learn your lesson, Deanie.«

Of course, his first impulse was to shout at the man and ask him what he was going on about, but the rubber thing in his mouth stopped him from doing so. He knew already what was coming as he glanced at the device to his left-hand side. More electroshocks? Why?

»I mean why else would you be here again, right? It doesn't make any sense, does it? Except it does, right?« Paul smirked and as Dean lifted his eyes from the device to his eyes, he found himself staring in horror as he saw them turn a perfect black. »You shouldn't have destroyed my hex bags, Deanie. Your death could have been a whole lot easier, Deanie, but you wanted to play the hero again, right? Because this served you so well last time, right? Poor ol’ Daddy can attest to that. I wasn't there as it happened, of course, but I wished I were. Azazel told me it was quite the sight to behold. The great big baddy John fucking Winchester, killed by his own loyal son. I bet every demon in hell would have given everything to have a front row seat for that show.«

He started pulling at his restraints now more forcefully.

»Deanie, tell me: How did it feel as you stabbed your father? Did it feel good to take revenge on your old man? I mean, really, you would have wanted to take it out on him, wouldn't you? After all the shit he put you through all your life? You had to be royally pissed. I would have been. I would have done even worse if my father would have done half the things your father has done.« Paul laughed. »Oh, all those times your father used you as bait for werewolves or vampires or really anything that goes bump in the night, Deanie! Even Azazel! He used you and you didn't even realize it. Your father’s perfect blunt tool. And yet, despite all of that, as the moment came to strike down Azazel ... The great John Winchester, who rather beat his own son to a bloody pulp than to praise him, could not find it in him to put a bullet into his own son's head. Wasn't that marvelous? He rather let you kill him than end you and rid himself of the monster that stole his wife. It was almost poetic, if you ask me.«

Behind his gag he was yelling but everything came out just garbled and nonsensical. He knew that there was nothing that he could do about lying here at the mercy of this fuckhead and yet he was struggling, yet he was fighting against his restraints as much as he possibly could with all the drugs that were dulling his senses. He was kicking his legs and pulling at his restraints.

»Oh Deanie, you can fight all you want, but that will not help you.« He watched how Paul walked over to the machine Dean was attached to and brushed his fingers over the knobs. »Ordinarily they keep this thing set on low.« Paul then grinned as he stopped beside his bed and made sure that the apparatus that sat on Dean’s head was secured tightly before he switched on the machine. He could hear it buzzing and knew that he would be helpless as soon as Paul would turn the knob that was regulating the current that would run through his body. »But I was thinking we could experiment a little. What do you say, Deanie? Let's turn up the heat.«

He was going to die in here. No matter how hard he fought, how much he struggled how loudly he started to grunt and yell and get attention from somewhere outside of this room, Dean knew that it would be over as soon as Paul would crank up the machine to a max. Maybe he wouldn't die from the electroshocks that would be running through his body because this machine was not meant to kill, but his life would be over no matter what. He would be no longer himself, just some freshly baked potato right out of the oven to rot inside of a padded cell for the rest of his life, unable to help his little brother. He wouldn't know his name any longer, he wouldn't remember Sam. Maybe he would even forget Castiel.

That was the price for killing his father, he supposed.

 

**-End of Chapter 19-**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Feel free to tell me what you think in the comments! <3


	20. Epilog

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking with me and this story until the end! I hope you'll like the end.  
> Feel free to tell me what you think in the comments! <3

» _LET ME OUT GOD DAMMIT!_ «

Slamming his fists against the door and screaming at the top of his lungs did not help at all. It was as if he was stuck in a bubble and no one could hear him scream for help. Had the nurses chosen to ignore him? Or did something terrible happen? Usually, they would have come running down the hallway already! Something was definitely wrong. He could feel it in the marrow of his bones that something was wrong. He felt it vibrating in his very core. Dean. He could feel that Dean was in grave danger and yet there was nothing he could do except screaming and slamming his fists against that door until his knuckles turned bloody.

What kind of angel was he even that he couldn't save one human? That was the problem, wasn't it? He had fallen. Was he even still an angel? He no longer had his grace! He no longer had his wings! He was nothing without those things! He was barely a functioning human at this point. » _PLEASE!_ « He tried again. » _LET ME OUT! I NEED TO SAVE DEAN!_ « That was all his mind could provide him with at this point. Dean. He had to get to Dean. He had to save Dean. »Please!«

As his door was suddenly unlocked, there had not been the sound of footsteps before. He was sure that there had been no sound announcing the person who had come to help him. First, Castiel was sure that he would be hit over the head with a baton from one of the security guards or grabbed and put into a straightjacket again. Immediately, Castiel stumbled backward and braced himself for the punishment that was surely going to hit him. This time, he knew, he would need to fight back. Really fight back. Dean was in danger and that he just knew.

Yet, as the person who had opened his door walked into his room to face him, somehow, Castiel was not even surprised to see Mr. Smith right in front of him. And yet, the moment his eyes met those of the janitor in the half-light of the dimly lit hallway, suddenly Castiel recognized him. »Gabriel.« He breathed and his brother smiled fondly at him now that Castiel was finally able to see him for who he was again.

»Sorry that I tricked you, little brother.« The archangel smirked. »But this was the only way to keep you save. I’m afraid Raphael was not too keen on you getting involved in all of this. And now come on, we have to save your pesky little human.«

His mind was reeling in confusion and Castiel could not even begin to grasp what was going on, yet he stumbled after his brother and out of his cell, leaving behind the little world he had built for himself in there, all the drawings he had made and all the books he had read. None of that was important now. Only saving Dean mattered and as he ran down the hallway after Gabriel, he felt as if he was fighting his way through hell.

There was blood all over the walls as they hurried past the nurses' desk and Castiel did not need to question why. Whoever was the one behind all of this had killed the other nurses - and probably the security guards too. Castiel was thankful that he at least was spared the sight of their corpses. »When you were here the entire time, why didn't you do something earlier? Why didn't you help us? Why didn't you do anything about the hex bags? Gabriel! What does this mean?«

»Had I get involved in this demon’s business Azazel would have sent more and sooner or later Raphael would have gotten wind of what was happening here. It was too dangerous, Cassie!« There was so much he wanted to know, so many things he wanted to ask and yet, the only thing that came out of Castiel’s mouth now that he had his brother by his side again was: »Where have you been all this time? Why did you leave?« It was the question of a child, of a fledgling, of a little brother who had missed the one sibling who had looked after him all the time.

»I couldn't stand it anymore! All this fighting! The apocalypse! Michael being a dick, Luci being locked away and Dad gone! I just wanted out!« He knew exactly what Gabriel meant and yet, in Castiel’s eyes, he was nothing more than a coward for leaving them all like this. »But when I felt your presence down here and realized what was happening and that Raphael was about to kill you before you could reach any of the Winchesters to bring them back together and keep Azazel from Sam - I had to do something. I was too late to save Jimmy’s family, too late to save Jimmy and when I found you lying in this field, all I could do was make sure that the angels wouldn't find you again. But now things have gotten a little out of hand and you and your loverboy have to get out of this place.«

Together they hurried down the next corridor, Castiel following his brother’s lead and while he felt the anger boiling deep down inside of him, he knew that what Gabriel said was true. All of this. He remembered arriving down on earth. He remembered admiring the snow and the wonders his father had created. He remembered the attack - he remembered … Raphael. »He killed me.« Almost Castiel paused in the middle of the hallway as this thought struck him as if he was being hit with a shovel over the head. »He … killed me. I remember it now. He was there when I arrived down here and he killed me so that Azazel could reach Sam so that Dean would be lost and sooner or later enter hell, so that the Righteous Man would break the first seal, so that Michael and Lucifer would get their vessels. He wanted the apocalypse. All of that - Raphael wants it.«

»You understand now why I couldn't stay with these maniacs?«

»But if he killed me … How am I alive?«

»You’re not the only one who is surprised about that.« Gabriel scoffed. »When I reached you, Raphael was already gone. I don't know how he did it but when I reached the place I last felt your grace, you were just appearing again in the middle of this field. Perhaps Dad brought you back - Who knows? Who cares? The important thing is that the angels can’t find you at the moment.«

»But why did you hide from me? Why put me here?« Castiel demanded to know and again he felt the fledgling inside of him shooting those questions at the brother he had loved the most. »I needed you! I thought I was crazy!«

»Listen, Cassie … Raphael killed Jimmy’s family, he killed you! I knew that he would finish the job would he know that you were still alive. I had to protect you somehow. Do you really think I enjoyed working as a janitor in this loony bin? But I knew that you would be saver here under my watch. And had you recognized me … I couldn't risk it, Cassie. I needed you to think I was a normal human, for your own protection.«

»That doesn't make sense!« As so many of Gabriel’s plans in the past. His brother had always done what he thought was best without talking to anyone about it. That was how he rolled and Castiel knew that at least his intentions had been good.

»When have I ever made sense?« Gabriel scoffed hurrying down another corridor while Castiel could feel the tingling sensation of dread in his body. They were close now. He could feel it.

»I missed you.« At least that he wanted Gabriel to know before they reached Dean because he was afraid that Gabriel would vanish before he could tell him. The moment they reached the door to the electroconvulsive therapy room, Gabriel stopped and turned to look at him, with a soft smile tugging at his lips now.

»I missed you too, little brother.«

※※※※※※※

The Impala was rushing down the dark country road as the first drops of rain started to fall against the windshield. Bobby was still sitting behind the wheel, pushing the Impala down this dark road towards the Asylum, towards Dean, towards saving Sam's big brother - if it wasn't too late already now. To Sam it was incredible how just a few hours ago he had not even believed his brother, how he had thought that Dean was talking complete bullshit when he was talking about demons and monsters, how he was speaking of their childhood and the monsters he and their father had hunted and now he sat in his brother’s car, driving down the empty country road through this forest, knowing that his brother was at the mercy of a demon as Sam’s own apartment, his home, was going up in flames.

And Jessica was dead.

He had to keep reminding himself of that truth so that he wouldn't forget it, so that it might feel more real, so that he might be able to start grieving. It seemed impossible, though. Because Jessica couldn't just be dead like this. It wasn't possible that she had died in their apartment like that. It wasn't possible that Sam had stabbed her with this large kitchen knife before the demon had set their apartment on fire and just vanished. It wasn't possible that his girlfriend had died for nothing. And it wasn't possible that Sam Winchester would now lose his brother too.

»Faster, Bobby!« Sam groaned and buried his face in his hands as he leaned down on his knees. He couldn't look at the road without his stomach turning. He felt carsick and nervous and he couldn't stand watching the scenery. »Come on, Bobby!«

»I'm going as fast as possible, Sam.« Bobby was quick to cut him off with his usual very firm and stern voice that wouldn't allow for any more resistance from the young man beside him. A part of him was even thankful for Bobby's cold, hard and stern voice. He needed a firm hand now. He needed someone who had their head on straight unlike him. He needed Bobby, a rock in a stormy sea. And what a miracle was it, that Bobby was still willing to provide this for him! After everything he had done in the past, after everything he had said to Bobby lately, he was still there, still here with him, still willing to put up with him, still there to help.

And Bobby had been at his street, arriving just as Sam’s life had gone up in flames. He had been there when Sam had needed him the most as if he had already known what was going to happen. Had he known? That was the most pressing question to Sam now. He didn't want to believe that Bobby Singer had been involved in this tragedy in any which way and yet … Yet, tonight, everything seemed just too possible. There was nothing, literally nothing, that seemed impossible. Maybe he had managed to get out of the frying pan and into the fire instead. Fuck.

»Bobby« His voice was a whole lot thinner than he would have liked it to be now as trees, like black figures, were rushing past them, grabbing for the car with thin arms and spider-like finger, as if the Impala was standing still on the ground and instead it was the scenery that was moving around them. »Why were you at my apartment tonight?« He didn't ask him directly if he had anything to do with the demon and yet, the question was there, lingering in the air between them just like that, not willing to leave them, not willing to make room for the trust that Sam should have in this man and couldn't yet bring himself to feel after so many years of silence.

Bobby Singer, however, had heard what he really meant to ask. »You really think I was involved in what happened tonight?« He growled and only briefly took his eyes from the dark road ahead to look at Sam. The rain had only worsened by now and was all but drumming down on the windshield and the roof of the beautiful old car that his brother had always loved so much. »You really think I was working with some demon to hurt you?«

»No!« Sam was quick to reply and yet wasn't that exactly what was going on here? Wasn’t this exactly what he was thinking? If this wouldn't be the case then why had he asked Bobby this question? »No, Bobby! I just … I … I don't know what to think or believe anymore! I was so sure that Dean was crazy! I never saw any monster for myself - or at least … At least I told myself that and now I realize that I wasn't myself for the past few months, that the old Sam would have never thought that his brother was crazy! And I'm so … disappointed in myself! I’m so … I don't even know what to think or feel any longer, Bobby!«

Maybe Dean wasn't the crazy Winchester brother after all.

»And Jessica … God … I should have known!« He sighed and drove both hands through his hair. »She was so different the last few months and yet I just thought that this was normal in a long-term relationship! I never experienced anything like this with her before, after all, so how was I supposed to know, right? She was so adamant about telling me that I was doing the right thing in locking Dean up … She was so supportive, Bobby. I should have known!«

»It isn't your fault, Boy.« Bobby sighed. »She said what you wanted to hear, what you needed to hear. It's only human. And your brother, if we are going to get him out of there alive, will forgive you.«

That he would because it wouldn't be like Dean to not forgive his baby brother, but Sam would never be able to forgive himself for what he had done to Dean. »I've let him down when he needed me the most, Bobby.« Sam silently replied as he was finally able to direct his eyes back to the dark road ahead, his pale face visible in the reflection of the windshield like a ghost staring back at him. He remembered one night in some dark cabin in the woods, all by himself with a storm howling through the trees around him and a full moon hovering in the sky. He didn't even know why of all things he had to think about this particular incident now and yet this was exactly where his mind was going to without him being able to do anything about it.

Back then he had been terribly sacred and yet unwilling to show his fear to anyone, but thinking that his big brother would never let something happen to him and that Dean would soon be back with him to protect him from every little evil thing that was out there, had helped him to get through that awful night. He had done what his brother had taught him to do. He had done what his brother would have done in such a situation and thus, as his brother and father had returned, Sam had felt a little stronger than before. »Dad is dead and Dean thinks he has killed him. Dad is dead and Dean came to me for help. And what did I do? I let him down. I will never forgive myself for that, Bobby.«

And although that was true, all of that, there was still anger boiling hot inside of Sam now. Because, yes, he had had a normal life. He had had a girlfriend whom he had wanted to marry, he had had goals and a future lying ahead of him. He could still feel the small box with the ring in the inside pocket of his jacket now. He had had all of this and then his brother came back into his life and everything went up in flames. Maybe their family was cursed.

»How am I ever going to make it up to him?« He bit out and felt how raw his throat felt all of the sudden. Yet, he couldn't break down again. Not now. Not when they were almost there. Suddenly, Bobby laid his hand down on Sam's shoulder in silent comfort. He didn't say anything, probably because there really was nothing he would be able to say to help Sam now in any way whatsoever. There was nothing he could do to make it up to Dean now. All they could do was get his brother out of there alive.

And as Bobby turned around the next curve of the serpentine road that was leading up the hills, he could already see the Asylum in the distance, waiting for them to arrive.

※※※※※※※

Electricity was surging through his body, causing his muscles to cramp and sending his limbs into spastic fits. He could feel how his brain was fried inside his skull. The pain was excruciating and numbing all at once. He couldn't think, he couldn't breathe, he was unable to do anything. His body and mind were numb and in a nightmare of pain and terror as it was shaking and vibrating on this bed. He couldn't escape. That was the only thought racing through his mind now. He couldn't escape and he was losing his mind on this bed.

»If you want to cook meat, you have to turn up the heat.« The nurse at his side hummed and a scream ripped through Dean’s body as Paul turned the knob further. A blinding white light burned his eyes and his skin and Dean was sure that it was the electricity that was now boiling his brains completely.

Then, suddenly, everything was over. Just like that. The pain stopped, the spastic fits seized and he was able to breathe again. Surely this was death. Someone was ripping at his head and then the apparatus on his head was removed. Someone was pulling at his jaw and the rubber thing between his teeth was gone. Death seemed so comforting in the moment. »DEAN!« He knew that voice. He was pretty sure that he knew that voice and yet, as he blinked and found Castiel's face hovering over him, he was confused and unsure if he was hallucinating or if Death had taken Castiel’s face to take him away. That would be a cruel joke, but at the same time, it would be oh so very comforting.

»You're not real.« He breathed. »You're not real.« Castiel's hands were on his face but his blue eyes were black and Dean knew that he wasn't real. He couldn't be real. Why would he be here and not locked up like both of them should be? They were crazy, after all. He felt two fingers gently press against his forehead and suddenly all the pain was just gone, the fog that lay over his mind was lifted and as he looked around as much as he could he found Paul laying on the ground. His eyes were burned out of his skull and only two gaping black and burned holes remained as he stared back at Dean. He was dead.

»Dean, quick, we have to go now.« Castiel breathed and Dean could feel how his angel unbuckled his bindings. Immediately, Dean sat up straight on his bed and swung his legs over the edge. He was still a bit drowsy, still a little confused. The one moment he had felt his brain being deep fried, the next he was completely clear and without pain. They weren't alone and as Dean’s eyes fell upon the janitor, suddenly everything fell into place for him. Gabriel stood right next to the machine, the same shit-eating grin as always visible on his face.

»Hey, big guy.« He smirked. »What do you think about getting off that bed and follow me and my little brother outside?« He was beyond confused, of course, but now was not the time to ask stupid questions. He jumped off the bed, still a little dazed despite what Gabriel seemed to have done to him.

»How are we getting out?« He breathed as he grabbed Castiel's arm out of instinct perhaps, just to know that the angel, his angel, was close and save. It was ridiculous and Dean knew that and yet, he couldn't help it. He had no fucking clue what was going on anymore and being close to Castiel made him feel safe and a little more like he knew what was happening around them. At least Castiel seemed to understand this sentiment as he placed his hand on Dean’s left shoulder gently, pulling on him now to get him even closer. Gabriel just smirked at him and wiggled his brows before he moved towards them.

»Like this.« He grinned as he grabbed both of them by the shoulders and as Dean blinked, they were outside. Just like this. He could feel his stomach churn and quickly ducked away from both men before he hurried to the side and vomited everything that was inside his stomach right onto the parking lot. Castiel's hand was on his back within seconds, rubbing soothing circles as Dean heaved, completely unfazed by the sudden teleportation. Only as there was nothing in his stomach left anymore, Dean managed to straighten his back, leaning into Castiel's touch ever so slightly as he did. He felt horribly disoriented and weak on his feet. The world was turning too fast and he had no fucking idea what was going on around him any longer.

»What the fuck just happened?« He wheezed.

»That my dear friend was a simple teleportation, administered by your friendly neighborhood archangel to save your ungrateful ass.« Gabriel laughed from somewhere behind them. »And not a second too early either.« Dean wanted to ask what he meant as he heard the familiar roar of a very familiar car not too far in the distance, approaching the scene. »Everything is right on time as it seems. Oh well, I never make mistakes.«

»I just don't … I don't get it.« Dean sighed and brushed his right hand through his hair as if that would help him in any way to grasp this situation. It didn't and he didn't even know if he should really care that much. The one minute his brain had been fried by this lunatic, the next he was outside, talking to an … yes, what? An Archangel? How was this even possible?

»Paul was the demon, Dean.« Castiel remained at his side as Dean looked around the parking lot and he was it also who captured Dean’s face in his warm hands one more time, forcing him to look at his eyes. Castiel knew how to calm him down and how to get him to focus on what was the most important thing. So, Dean just looked at Castiel's blue eyes, trying to even out his breathing as he did.

»Yes, I understand that much.« He then scoffed but did nothing to loosen Castiel's grip on him. If anything, he wanted the angel to be closer. »He wanted to fry my brain, to make me lose my mind completely, to make me forget everything … Myself … Sammy … _You._  He wanted me to rot in a padded cell forever, a sick twisted revenge for all the monsters I killed.«

»He almost succeeded.« Gabriel said in a huff. Out of the corner of his eye, Dean could see him cross his arms. »You’re welcome, by the way.«

His words were meant to be humoring but all it did was to enrage Dean. Slowly he turned his head to look at the janitor-angel and furrowed his brows in anger. »Oh thank you for doing something when it's almost too late!« He frowned. »Thank you your highness!«

»Dean…« Castiel tried but finally Dean pulled away from the angel to take a step towards Gabriel now instead.

»No, Cas!« He shot back over his shoulder. »I mean what the fuck? You were there the entire time and you did what? You watched how we both went insane? Was it fun for you? Yes? Why haven't you done anything sooner? What kind of sick mind do you have to watch us suffer like this?«

»Enough.« The grin was gone, just like every last bit of humor as Gabriel stood his ground unflinching as the taller hunter approached him with anger visible on his face. Dean could feel the power radiating from the Archangel and he was aware that he wouldn't stand a chance against him in a fight. »I did what I had to do. I did what I could. I helped as best I could.«

»You did nothing except playing armor at best!«

»You're welcome for that too, Deanie.« Gabriel scoffed rolling his eyes. »I told Cassie why I couldn't help you earlier. Ask your lover boy if you don't trust me.«

»And why would I trust you anyway?«

»Because I gave you two idiots the chance to escape earlier, I gave you two idiots the chance to find everything out that you needed to find out! I wasn't aware just how thick you two are, though! Honestly, watching you guys was brutal! I mean Cas … Yeah, he was always a bit slow, but you? Geez! How were you able to survive that long in the first place?« The noise of the Impala approaching grew louder and Gabriel shot just a glance towards the street. »Honestly, I would love to chat with you guys all night long, but you should get going unless you want to get captured and send back into the padded cells once again. The nightguard will soon find what happened and then the whole area will be swarming with security in no time.« Gabriel urged. Dean wanted to shoot back something at him, he wanted to force Gabriel to tell him everything, but he knew that he was telling the truth and there was no time left to discuss anything now. He already grabbed Castiel’s arm to pull him with him towards the street but Cas was unmoving now and Dean saw why too. Castiel just stared at the other angel - his brother if it was true what Gabriel had said earlier. Why had Cas not been able to recognize Gabriel for what he was, though? A spell, perhaps? Now, Castiel's eyes were pleading with his brother.

»Come with us.« He said and though Dean wanted to protest, he recognized the tone of his voice. A deep longing for his family and for feeling safe at his brother’s side, but Gabriel shook his head gently before he pulled something from underneath his shirt. It was a necklace with a glass vial attached to it that almost looked like a crystal, filled to the brim with some odd mass that Dean had never seen before. It was beautiful, truly, light blue and blindingly bright.

»Not possible, little brother. Being here has been too dangerous already - for the both of us.« Gabriel replied and now his voice had lost his cockiness a little and grown quite a bit softer. »They are after you, as soon as you take back your grace. I did everything I could to help you and now that you know what to do again and are where you ought to be, I have to go. I don't wish to get involved anymore. Yet … If you need me again, pray and I’ll come.« Dean didn't even understand a single thing what Gabriel was telling Castiel as he handed over the necklace to the taller angel but he would understand it in due time, he was sure of that.

Before Castiel could even begin to say something, Gabriel was gone as if he had never been there and only the sound of fluttering wings was to be heard. Castiel stared at the spot where his brother had stood just seconds before, then he pulled the necklace over his head and hid the vial underneath his hospital shirt. Dean didn't question his angel, instead, he grabbed his hand and started running down the parking lot and towards the road, pulling Castiel with him, right as the alarm started to go off behind them.

He couldn't quite believe that they were both free again as they were running side by side and yet, as the Impala suddenly came into sight for them, the realization started to sink in.

※※※※※※※

They were lying on the hood of the Impala, side by side, above them, only the full moon and the stars and Dean remembered how he used to do that with Sam as they had been children and their father asleep on the front seat, perhaps. Sam and he had huddled into the thick blankets that they had in the trunk against each other, lying on the hood of Dad’s old car, their backs pressed against the windshield and watching the stars. He remembered how he had explained the various star formations that he knew to Sammy, remembered how his Dad had once taught them to him a long time ago. He remembered how happy he had been in nights like those, just resting on the hood of this beautiful car, watching the stars with his brother. This car was the closest thing to a home he had and in nights like these, he had felt like nothing could happen to him as long as he had this car to call his home.

Now the car was not parked at the side of the road, a clearing inside a thick forest, some random parking lot in the middle of nowhere, or a beach. Around the black chevy impala were mountains of dead and long forgotten vehicles raising up a few feet high into the nightly sky, like an audience for this King of cars that stood in the yard and behind them only the small house of Bobby Singer. There was still light shining through the windows from inside and if he would focus on it, he would surely be able to hear his brother and Bobby argue about some random spell or enchantment again. Soon they would call for him and the man that was resting beside him on the hood of his car but until then, Dean tightened his arm around Castiel's shoulders a little again and took a sip from his beer.

The vial with Castiel's grace was warm against his skin. The angel had given the necklace to him for safekeeping a few days ago, still reluctant to take the blue mist back into his own body. »It's odd.« Castiel quietly rose his voice beside him, his head resting on Dean’s as they were leaning with their backs against the windshield. »Having my grace so close by after such a long time without it. Months without it were like hell … I didn't feel like myself anymore. I was utterly helpless and didn't know if everyone around me was right and if I was in fact just one more crazy person in this world. I should have noticed that it was close by as Gabriel had it, I suppose. Maybe I did notice it. Maybe that's why it all got so much worse, you know? Not just the hex bag that was taking and replacing my memories with fake ones … but my grace being close by, torturing me even further with the knowledge that it was there waiting for me.«

»How does it feel now that I have it?« Dean asked. He could understand what Castiel was going through and yet he couldn't. They were tied to each other in their shared experience of being completely insane. They had been through hell and back - together. Where would he be now had it not been for Castiel, though? Would he still be in there?

»It's okay, I suppose.« Castiel murmured quietly. »I feel like myself again … and I'm glad that you have it … I feel safe when you have it.«

»And you don't want it back?«

»The other angels will start coming after me as soon as I have it back.« Castiel replied shrugging his shoulders. »I miss having it … I miss having my wings. I miss being able to fly. I miss being able to heal. But I'm too afraid to take everything back. They will hunt me - _us -_ when I do and they will not rest before they got me, before they got _you_. Dean, I was sent to earth to protect your brother from Azazel. I was sent to keep you safe - to keep the Winchesters save so that, one day, you will be able to play your roles as you were supposed to. And if keeping you save means that I can't have my grace … It's a small price to pay.«

Dean was quiet for a moment before he moved and leaned over Castiel now instead. He brushed his fingers over Castiel's stubbly jaw and the angel was quick to put his hand on Dean's left shoulder, gripping him tight as if he was the one who needed to brace himself. »I see that you are suffering, having your grace always in such close proximity and still not having it. Maybe, Cas, maybe you should, for once, let _me_ protect _you_.« Dean sighed as close to Castiel's lips as possible without actually kissing him while their eyes remained locked. Dean knew that he would never want to live life without those eyes in it and for once he didn't care what anyone was thinking about him, not even Sam or the other hunters, not even his father would he, miraculously, rise from the dead to find his firstborn in love with a male angel. Just being close to Cas was enough, just knowing that he had him was enough. »You’ll see … When those feathery assholes come to get you … We will fight them off together. You are not alone in this war, Castiel.« And he was dying to see those wings.

It was Castiel who bridged the last distance between them to steal a kiss from Dean’s plump lips now but it was a short one, almost even too quick to count, but it was the confirmation he needed as Dean slowly pulled the necklace out from under his shirt where it had been resting warmly against his skin for quite some time now. He didn't take it off, just unscrewed the vial from the silver top before bringing it close to Castiel’s lips and watching how the angel was breathing in the blue mist at once. He hadn't expected the minor earthquake that would occur when Castiel would get his grace back, he hadn't expected the blindingly bright light that forced him to close his eyes so that they wouldn't be burned out of his skull but when he opened his eyes, Cas didn't seem any different, apart from the bright blue that held his eyes in a tight grip for a moment before ebbing off again, and he was glad that this was the case. Of course, he had feared this moment just as Cas had but for a whole different kind of reason. He had feared that he would lose him, would Castiel get his grace back, that his angel might suddenly be abhorred by what they shared and that he would leave him just like this. He had maybe even feared that Castiel would be a whole other person with his grace back. Yet, the way he looked at Dean now was just the same as it always had been if not a little warmer.

The only thing that was indeed different was the huge wing that was around his back all of the sudden, pulling him in close as Castiel took it upon himself to devour his lips once more. Dean couldn't help but brush his fingers through the soft dark feathers of Castiel's large wings before they vanished into thin air as if they had never been there, the moment gone too quickly. He would have marveled those wings forever if he would have gotten the chance. He couldn't, though and only the one black feather that had fallen out when Dean has brushed his fingers through his soft wings remained clutched in his hand.

»Cas! Dean!« A voice from the house called and Dean could already hear his brother’s footsteps coming down the porch. He bit back a frustrated groan as he pulled away from Cas’ lips only to find his angel smirking at him maybe even a little smug as Dean looked at the feather in his hand.

»You know what?« Dean sighed as he slowly sat up on the hood of his car and cast another glance up at the starry sky above before he looked down on Castiel again with a small smirk of his own pulling on his lips. »I don't know how you feel about all of this but ... Hell, being just crazy with you was a lot simpler than not being crazy.«

****

**-End of Epilog-**


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